


Gunpoint

by felisblanco



Series: Gunpoint [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 137,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen got his childhood stolen away from him when he was ten years old. Along with his memory, his voice and every emotion that wasn’t fear, hatred or anger. Question is, can Jared help him get any of it back? And more importantly, does Jensen really want him to?</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/250429/250429_original.jpg"></a><br/>    <img/></p><p> </p><p>"Prepare yourself to live with whatever follows pain."<br/>One to Blame by Anna Ternheim</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m putting some heavy warnings on this one since it deals with emotional trauma following severe sexual child abuse. I’m talking full out PTSD, including flashbacks, blackouts, age regression, dissociation, anger control issues, suicidal thoughts and other very unpleasant things. That being said: there will be no scenes depicting the actual abuse. It will be hinted at, heavily, and talked about as facts but there won’t be any descriptive flashbacks or anything like that. Still, this is damn heavy stuff and I want you to be aware that there might be things in here that could be triggering. Also this deals with religious fanaticism and homophobia. And there's some NSFW art.  
> Beta’d by the ever patient candygramme (Thank you, sweetie! You are my absolute favourite comma fanatic. *grins*). 
> 
> Art by the amazing winchestergirl who’s been working on and off on this with me for over 3 years!

_This is what Jensen remembers:  
The jeans that Nana gave him for his birthday are cold and damp and stink of pee. The thick arm pressing against his throat is wearing a shirt that smells of sweat and cigarettes. He can’t breathe. His head feels like it’s floating, his vision is blurry. When he kicks his legs he only hits air. Everything is fading away: the screams, the sirens, the flashes of red and blue, when..._

_A shout. A loud crack. His head jerks back as something warm splatters his face. He’s dropped on the ground. There’s a weird taste in his mouth. He sucks air into his lungs and, when he lets it out, it’s with a scream that won’t stop._

_This is what Jensen doesn’t remember:  
Everything else._

\----------

Present day

To the best of Jared’s knowledge, most of his fellow high school graduates based their choice of college on at least one of five things: grades, curriculum, expenses, convenience and – believe it or not – weather. Jared’s pretty sure he’s the only one that picked his destination from an online gay-friendly colleges list.

The duffel bag feels heavy as he hoists it up on his shoulder. Or maybe he should say light, considering it holds everything he owns now. He steps off the bus, knees aching after the long ride, and looks around, frowning a little before making a turn left. His stomach rumbles so he stops at a coffee shop near campus to buy a large macchiato and a blueberry muffin, ordering and paying while studying the printed out map in his hand. He grabs the coffee and the paper bag with a distracted "Thanks" when it’s handed to him and walks out.

The muffin is good. The coffee is fucking amazing, but that might be the exhaustion talking.

Fifteen minutes later he’s signing in at the college dorm. He’s late, the semester started two days ago, but he has his reasons, and they accept them with a nod and a curious look that shifts away when he bluntly meets it. He holds his head high, his shoulders squared, the smile reserved but polite and hopes they can’t hear the pounding of his heart.

When he finally finds his room it has crap spread over both beds and a scrawny blond guy sitting by the open window, smoking.

“Shit,” the guy says when Jared opens the door, quickly hiding the cigarette behind his back. Then he spots Jared’s duffle bag and relaxes. “Sorry, man. Thought you were the dorm Nazi.”

Jared frowns. He puts the bag down on the floor and looks around. “No. I’m your roommate.”

“Aw, fuck,” the guy groans. “I was hoping you’d died or something, so I could have the room to myself. No offense.”

Jared raises his eyebrows, not so much offended as wary at having apparently been doomed to share a room with a rude, unconsidered, douchey slob. “None taken. I’m Jared.”

The guy raises the cigarette in salute and blows smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Chad. Whazzup?”

Jared shrugs. “Which bed am I taking?” he asks.

“Don’t really care. I’ve been using both. Saves me sleeping on the wet spot once the chicks are gone.” Chad laughs at Jared’s horrified expression. “Just kidding. Take the left one. No, the other left. Wait, let me move my shit.” He flips the still burning cigarette out the window then jumps off the windowsill and goes over to the bed on the right, sweeping the piles of clothes onto the floor. “There you go.”

Jared looks at him.

Chad sighs dramatically. “Jeez. I’ll clean up later, _mom_.”

“Or you can do it now.”

He waits, and after a moment’s hesitation that Chad seems to spend on calculating Jared’s size – which is considerable – and the chances of keeping his balls intact if he refuses – which are pretty good, but Jared’s not about to tell him that – he rolls his eyes and gathers his things off the floor to dump them on his own bed.

“There,” he sneers. “Happy now?” Then mutters under his breath, “Figures I get stuck with the OCD gay guy.”

Jared goes still. He blinks a couple of times. His heart speeds up in his chest. He says, “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I like my boys pretty.”

“Hey! I’m beautiful!” Chad protests. “You’d be lucky to tap this, bitch.” Then he laughs and slaps Jared on the shoulder. “Welcome to college, buttfucker.”

Jared breathes out. “Suck my dick, asshole,” he says, and that’s how he steps out of the closet he’s been hiding in since he was twelve years old. The air may smell of old gym socks and leftover pizza but it’s still the best he’s breathed in years.

 

 

Being out isn’t just about not having to pretend he’s interested in girls anymore. It’s walking down the hallway without having to wonder if he’s swaying his hips. It’s talking without worrying if his voice is too high, or if he’s using words that sound ‘queer’. It’s being able to wear clothes that look nice and get appreciative comments thrown his way instead of derogative and sneering. It’s looking back when someone looks at him. It’s not being scared.

It’s having to put up with Chad’s idea of open-minded support.

“Rule number one, no assfucking when I’m in the room.”

“No pussylicking when I’m here,” Jared shoots back, not even bothering to look up from his textbook.

Chad tilts his head in thought then nods. “Deal. Rule number two, no jerking off either unless we’re both drunk.”

Jared snorts. “I’m not jerking you off, asshole,” he says and turns a page.

Chad makes a gagging sound. “I meant separately, fucker. I know I’m hot but keep your gay fantasies about me to yourself.”

Jared flips him the finger. “Rule number three, stop stealing my lube.”

“Dude! I don’t... Fine. Whatever. Not like you’re using it. Rule number four, no sleeping with each other’s sisters. Or, in your case, brother.”

The pain is sharp and sudden but Jared pushes it down to the pit of his stomach. “Do you even have a brother?” he asks, voice cool.

“Nope. Do you have a sister?”

“No.” He stands up, throwing the book on his bed. “Rule number five, no more smoking in here. The room fucking stinks, man.”

“Aw, come on!” Chad whines.

“It’s only a matter of time before someone catches you. I’m doing you a favor, dude.”

Chad lets out a loud suffering sigh. “Fine. Unless it’s weed, right?”

Jared hesitates a moment, but then he shrugs. Might as well get the full college experience, right? “Fine.”

Chad’s grin is slow and lazy. “Sweet. I like you better already. Oh, rule number six, if we get horny while high and wake up the next morning wearing each other’s underwear? We don’t speak of it. Ever.”

Jared shudders. “I just threw up a little in my mouth. And I actually _like_ cock. If we get horny while high I’m throwing you out of the fucking room, man.”

Being out is being himself for the first time since he realized he was going to Hell.

 

 

 

Somehow Jared assumed going to college would include getting laid. A lot. So far it’s not really happening.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Chad shouts over the loud music. He already has a hickey the size of a dime on his neck. “You don’t turn down blowjobs, man!”

“That? Was a girl,” Jared explains patiently. “I’m gay. Do I have to draw you the picture again?”

“It’s a mouth sucking your dick! Who cares what’s attached to it?”

Jared ignores him. He’s scanning the crowd, looking for... That one? The guy meets his gaze then looks away again, smirking. He laughs, jerking his head Jared’s way, and his buddies look over, smirking as well. One of them makes an insulting gesture that has Jared’s cheeks burning. He purses his lips, exasperated, and moves his gaze elsewhere.

It would help if his gaydar actually _worked_ instead of just buzzing happily every time it sees a nice ass or some pretty eyes. So far he’s been shot down twice and once only avoided being beaten up because he was like two feet taller than the very homophobic shithead he’d made the mistake of hitting on. Frankly this whole party blows. As far as he can tell he’s the only gay guy within a five-mile radius. So much for picking a gay-friendly college.

“I’m going home,” he says. “I’ve had enough of this shit.”

He turns to find out he’s talking to air. He spots Chad on the far side of the room, leaning into a girl that’s backing away, a wary look on her face. Right. Jared sighs, drains his beer and heads out, not bothering to say goodbye. He’s standing outside the house, absently wondering if he can find the way back to campus on his own, when someone yanks his arm, pulling him into the shadows.

“What the–” is all he manages before there’s a hand cupping his groin and lips latching on to his. “Jesus!” he gasps, noting the hint of stubble rubbing at his chin and that’s pretty much all he needs to know. He kisses back, sucking the guy’s tongue into his mouth and bucking into the hand rubbing his dick. It’s unbelievably hot. He groans in protest when the guy suddenly pulls off but then he hears a thud and realizes the guy has dropped to his knees and is working Jared’s fly open. Whoa!

“Wait, we can’t... Oh. Okay. Oh!”

The thing about being gay in the middle of the goddamn Bible Belt is that the only blowjobs you can get are from girls. Which for Jared only worked if he closed his eyes and stuffed his fingers in his ears while trying to ignore the brush of long hair against his thighs and the smell of cherry lip-gloss in the air. Which is to say, it didn’t really work at all. This? This works. This works really fucking well. A little too well even…

“I’m gonna... Dude! Jesus, you gotta –”

His head thuds against the wall, and then he’s coming, cock buried deep down the guy’s throat. It takes him a moment to get his breath back, but when he does the guy is already on his feet and turning away. Instinctively Jared shoots a hand out and grabs the guy’s wrist.

“Wait,” he says and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back, jeans around his thighs and his jaw is hurting like a sonofabitch. Through the ringing in his ears he can hear the sound of feet hitting the pavement as his mystery guy disappears into the night.

“I just wanted to ask you your name,” Jared groans, quickly hauling up his jeans and tucking himself in before rolling over onto his knees and standing up. “Fucking psycho.”

His butt hurts from hitting the porch – he actually thinks there might be splinters – and his jaw aches from the blow but the rest of him feels amazing. Now that he’s over the shock he has to admit that as first experiences go, this one ranked pretty high on his fantasy list. Still, all fantasies aside, he hadn’t really expected to end up in a wham-bam-thank-you-man scenario.

When he licks his lips they taste of coffee and mint and there’s a faint scent of lemon in the air.

\-------

Jensen been at it for hours when Chris finally wakes up and stumbles out of bed. It's not morning, not really. More like late, late night. He thinks. He has a tendency to lose track of time when he's working. Judging by Chris's look – a mixture of sadness, irritation and resignation – whatever time it is, it's not one to be awake at.

“You know, drinking all that coffee ain’t gonna help you sleep,” Chris says grumpily.

Jensen ignores him. He’s drinking coffee, _because_ he can’t sleep, not the other way around.

“What are you drawing?” Chris asks, moving around the kitchen island to glance over Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen quickly hides it with his hand but it’s too late. “Who’s that?”

It’s sharp, accusing, but Jensen pretends he can’t hear it. There’s a strange feeling in his stomach. A little like excitement, he thinks, although that’s not really an emotion he’s sure how to identify.

“Another john of yours?”

Jensen recoils at the venom in his voice. He pushes away from the island, violently shrugging Chris’s hand off his arm. Chris backs away, hands lifted in mock apology.

“I’m sorry but what the hell am I supposed to call them? They’re not even one-night stands, man, they’re just... Fuck, Jensen, the way you have sex you might as well get paid for it.”

The fury is so sudden, so violent, Jensen doesn't even have time to think, just swirls around, his fist hitting Chris straight on the jaw. ‘Fuck you,’ he mouths, spit flying from between his bared teeth. ‘Not a whore!’

Chris straightens up from where he'd stumbled into the couch, a drop of blood slipping out of a small split in his lip. He looks, if anything, even more shocked than Jensen feels. Then suddenly the anger is back, magnified to a thousand.

“Then stop treating yourself like one!” he yells back, eyes blazing. “You’re better than this, Jensen! You’re worth more!”

Jensen throws his middle finger in Chris’s face.

Chris glares at him. His nostrils flare. Once. Twice. He swallows then takes a step back, jaw set. “Fine! If that’s how you want to play it then fine. You wanna whore yourself out to an early death? Go ahead! But I’m not gonna stand by and watch you do it. Everyone has their limit, and this is mine, Jensen. I can’t do this anymore. You’re on your own.”

Jensen’s heart stops. He stares at Chris. At the angry twist of his mouth, at the knuckle-shaped bruise on his jaw, at the tears in his eyes. At the defeat he can see there and the resolve Chris is fighting to retain. Jesus, he means it! He really means it.

Jensen hitches his breath. “Chris,” he whispers.

Chris’s eyes widen. “You _asshole_!” he chokes out. “You fucking _shithead_!” The tears flow over, and he wipes at them angrily with the back of his hand. “You say that like... You know how many times you’ve said my name? Twice! Ten years we’ve known each other, and this is the third time you’ve said my goddamn fucking name!”

Jensen takes a step forward, but Chris just backs away, shaking his head. “No. You can’t just... You fucking manipulative COCKSUCKER!”

Jensen reaches out for him, catching him by the wrist. ‘Please,’ he begs with his eyes. ‘I can’t do this without you. Please.’

“Fuck you! Fuck you and your fucking trauma! Why can’t you just get over it and move the fuck on like a fucking normal person? Why the hell can’t you just get better? Why, Jensen?”

Jensen stands silent as Chris turns his back and storms into the bathroom, wincing when the door slams behind him. He doesn’t know. He wishes he did. He wishes he knew how to not be such a miserable excuse for a human being.

\-------

“You ever gonna stop moping, man?”

Jared doesn’t bother looking up. He’s lying on his bed, head propped up on pillows, ankles crossed, book resting on his chest. “I’m not moping. I’m studying. You should try it sometimes.”

Chad throws a rolled pair of dirty socks at Jared’s head to get his attention. He catches it easily, eyes still on the page. “You’re studying on a Friday night,” Chad says. “That qualifies as moping.”

“Not when you have a test Monday morning, it doesn’t,” Jared says, throwing the socks out the open window. Chad doesn’t even bat an eye.

“I thought you gays were supposed to be, you know, gay,” he complains. “Like happy and glittery and singing Abba.”

“Let me pass that memo to Matthew Shepard,” Jared says drily. “Oh wait...”

Chad just flips him the finger. “Don’t give me that shit. The only one oppressing your royal gayness is you. Come on, let’s go out and get some.”

Jared shakes his head.

“Are you still mooning over your mystery fuck? Jesus, that’s so fucking high school. Okay, how about you track _him_ down then?”

Jared lowers the book to give Chad a pointed look. “I told you, I don’t know who it was. He just... blew me. And then he ran away. It was dark. I didn’t even see his face.”

Chad shrugs. “Probably didn’t want you to. Chances are he was ugly as fuck. But hey, you got your dick sucked. What’s the problem?”

Jared opens his mouth to answer then closes it again. Disturbingly enough Chad has a point. Instead of moping over a guy he doesn’t even know, he should go out and meet new people. It’s what he came here for, right?

“Okay, I’m game. Where you wanna go?”

Chad’s grin is disturbingly wide. “Trust me, it’s gonna be EPIC!”

 

 

“You call this epic?” Jared asks disappointed as he looks around The Black Bean. It seems slightly familiar; he thinks he might have stopped by here the day he arrived. He can’t really remember. Whatever. It looks just as boring as any other campus dive. Except... uhm... Oh come _on_! “Dude, did you bring me to an LGBT meeting?”

Chad rolls his eyes. “You make it sound like AA. It’s not a _meeting_ , it’s Queer-4-All night. Pansies like you reaching out, touching me, touching yoooou...” he sings, off-key, and Jared punches him in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You told me to touch you,” Jared says drily. “You never said how. Explain where this constitutes as help,” he adds skeptically.

“Okay, see? Every single dude in here is gay or bi or whatever, right? So you can hit on whoever you want and not have to worry that they’re homophobic assholes that wanna punch your face in.”

Jared blinks. “That’s... actually not such a bad idea.”

“It’s not?” Chad asks surprised then grins like a maniac. “Of course it’s not! It’s the best idea ever! Say it. I’m the man!”

“You’re the man, Chad.” Jared gives him a smug smile. “You’re the man who’s gonna have gay cooties all over your ass if you hang around much longer, you know that right?”

“Relax, I have it all figured out.” Chad leers. “I’m gonna tell them I’m bi, and tonight I’m looking for a woman, ‘cause there really is such a thing as too much cock.”

Jared can’t help it, he starts laughing. It feels good. He hasn’t really laughed much in the last few years. Chad can be a real pain in the ass, but he’s also a damn good comedy relief, especially when he doesn’t mean to be.

“Good luck with that. I’ll be over here, drinking coffee and watching the lesbians shoot you down,” he says with a smirk and walks backwards toward the counter, fake shooting an outraged Chad with finger guns.

He’s still smiling as he turns around and comes face-to-face with the guy working behind the counter. Well, more like face-to-top-of-the-head seeing as the guy has his gaze set on the floor and even takes a step back as Jared comes closer, as if intimidated. Not the first time that’s happened – Jared is aware of being pretty damn huge in the eyes of most – so he keeps the smile plastered on his face and the tone friendly.

“Hey, I’d like a macchiato?” he says, and the guy’s head snaps up.

Oh wow. Beautiful green eyes in a fucking gorgeous face, staring at him all wide and oddly vulnerable. The guy opens his mouth then closes it again, stupidly long eyelashes blinking slowly. He swallows, and Jared automatically follows the movement of the long throat with his eyes, feeling a little dry-mouthed himself to tell the truth. Shit. Figures on a Queer-4-All night he gets a hard-on for the only guy who might _not_ be gay but simply working.

“Hi,” Jared tries again when the silent stare starts to feel a little unsettling. “Uhm... macchiato?”

The guy snaps out of his stupor, and with a jerked nod goes to make Jared’s coffee. When he comes back, Jared has his change ready, adding a few extra because, fuck, gay or straight, the guy is worth it for the eye candy alone.

“Thanks!” he says brightly and takes a sip. “Oh wow, that’s really good. You should get a raise for making the best macchiato in the entire history of macchiatos ever.”

Sure, it’s lame, but he’d rather flirt with the incredibly cute guy behind the counter than throw himself into the shark pool on this side.

The corner of the guy’s mouth twitches, as if he’s either trying to smile or fighting not to. He drops his gaze then glances up again, looking a little wary.

“So,” Jared continues, putting on his warmest smile, “you have gay nights often?”

The guy goes absolutely still, eyes blinking so slowly it’s as if he’s in a whole other world. Jared isn’t sure what he said, but obviously it was wrong somehow.

“I meant this,” he says, waving his hand at the crowd, and the guy visibly relaxes before giving a small shrug. Okay, so gaydar still not working. Unless maybe the guy is still in the closet and thought Jared just outed him. Not that he did, he was just talking. Well, flirting. Trying anyway. He’s starting to think he really sucks at it. “I’m Jared by the way,” he adds and sticks out his hand.

The guy stares at it for a moment then swallows and wipes his hand on the black waist apron before accepting the handshake. “Jensen.”

He blinks as the word leaves his lips, looking a little surprised. His voice is so quiet Jared can hardly hear him; and a little hoarse, like he’s still tasting last night’s whiskey in his throat. It sounds fucking hot, enough to send shivers down Jared’s spine. He holds on to the hand a little longer, until he notices Jensen twitching, as if he’s fighting not to pull away. He reluctantly lets go, and Jensen instantly steps back, eyes to the counter. He starts gathering up the change Jared dropped, but his hands shake so much half of them end up hitting the counter, where they roll off and onto the floor.

“Oops. Let me,” Jared offers and comes around the corner to crouch beside Jensen, quickly picking up the coins before looking up with a grin. Only to find himself mere inches away from Jensen’s very pale face. He’s staring at Jared with a panicked look in his wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. He’s close enough that Jared can see a million freckles dotting his skin, and he can feel Jensen’s breath, quick and erratic and smelling of coffee and... mint?

Jared blinks. No. Seriously? He can’t be that lucky. He stands up slowly, taking a quick step back when Jensen goes from pale to looking absolutely terrified at having Jared suddenly looming over him.

“Hey, this is gonna sound weird but... Did we meet at a party last Friday?”

Jensen gets to his feet and backs slowly away, all the while shaking his head. He turns and quickly walks away, ripping off his apron and throwing it at a pretty, dark-haired girl that sits reading on a chair in the corner, clearly on a break.

“Jensen, what–” she says confused as he disappears out a back door. Then she spots Jared and her face hardens. She stands up and throws the book to the floor before storming over, Jensen’s apron clutched in her hand. “What the fuck did you say to him?” she hisses.

Jared blinks surprised. “Nothing. I just thought I knew him from somewhere,” he explains awkwardly.

Her glare turns into pure disgust. “What the fuck is your problem? It’s been twelve fucking years for Christ’s sake! Just leave him alone.” She turns around and goes after Jensen, leaving Jared to stare after her, feeling completely lost.

Okay. What the hell was _that_ about?

 

 

“Do you know a Jensen? Works at The Black Bean?”

Chad pauses mid-lick then finishes running his tongue over the edge of the paper before rolling the joint closed. “Why you asking?”

Jared shrugs. “Nothing special. I just had a... weird encounter with him at that gay thing you dragged me to.”

Chad snorts. “Weird. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jared snaps, and Chad looks up in surprise. “Sorry. He just... struck me as a nice guy.”

Chad stares at him. “Holy crap, you like him!”

“What? No! I...” He sighs. “What if I do?”

If anything Chad’s eyes widen even further. “Dude, no. Nononono. Bad idea. That guy’s got a serious case of the crazy, okay? I’m not kidding here. He’s actually insane.”

“Oh come on –” Jared starts, but Chad violently shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Nuhuh. He doesn’t talk, like ever. You look at him a little funny, and he freaks the fuck out. I’m telling you, I was there with this chick, and she dropped her cup on the floor? The guy peed his pants. Like literally, he just stood there frozen with a big stain on his jeans. They had to half-carry him out of there.”

Jared stares at Chad. “You’re not lying,” he says slowly.

“I’m not lying!” Chad flails. “Who the hell lies about something like that? The guy is a fucking head case. Stay away from him.”

“Okay, okay. Chill. I was just curious.”

Chad gives him a look. “Yeah, right. Look, I get it. The guy’s hot. Even I can see that. But you don’t want to sleep with some wacko who might go crazy and bite your dick off.”

“Jesus, Chad. Shut up. That’s just...” Jared stands up, pushing away the offered joint. “I need some fresh air.”

“Stay away from crazy motherfuckers who want to bite your dick off!” Chad yells after him, startling a guy that’s walking down the hall. Jared offers the guy a tight smile and slams the door shut in Chad’s face. Freak.

He really didn’t plan on it but fifteen minutes later he’s standing drenched outside The Black Bean, hands thrust into his pockets and shoulders shot up to his ears to try and keep the rain from running under his collar. A glance through the window shows Jensen standing behind the counter, staring into space. The place seems to be otherwise deserted, not surprising in this weather. The dark-haired girl isn’t around as far as Jared can tell, although she might be out of his range of vision. But he’s come all this way, and he’s cold and wet and... Oh, what the hell.

The small bell above the door jingles as he walks in, but Jensen doesn’t even glance his way. Instead his eyes drop to the counter, and he stands there, unmoving, as Jared makes his way over.

“Hey,” he means to say when water starts running into his eyes and he shakes his head on instinct, trying to get the mop of wet hair out of his face.

It happens so fast he just barely manages to shoot out his arm to catch Jensen by the collar of his shirt before his chin hits the counter. Shit. “Dude, you okay?”

Jensen just stares at him, frozen.

Not the first time having long arms has proven an advantage, Jared thinks, as he rounds the counter corner, still holding Jensen up by his shirt. Once Jared’s on the other side he hauls Jensen up and pulls him close with one arm around his shoulder and the other steadying him at his waist. This time there is no doubt. He knows that body. The curve of that hip, the strength of those arms. The smell of coffee and mint on his breath and lemon on his hair.

“It is you,” he says stunned. “That night... That was you.”

Jensen whimpers, and Jared jerks out of his daze. The guy looks absolutely terrified. He’s so pale the freckles seem grey in his face. He’s shaking, and Jared pulls him tighter on instinct. Jensen sucks in his breath, the green eyes roll back in his head, and just like that he goes limp in Jared’s arms. Shit.

Jared looks around in panic. “Hello?” he shouts. “Is anyone here? I need some help!”

There’s a loud bang and a guy comes rushing out from the back room, stopping in his tracks when he sees Jensen unconscious in Jared’s arms. “What the hell did you do?” he growls. He’s across the space in barely a second, ripping Jensen away and lowering him to the floor. “Jensen? Shit. Jensen, come on!”

“He just –” Jared tries, but the guy throws up his hand, shutting him up.

“His face is wet. Why is his face wet?” he demands to know, grabbing a towel from a hook on the counter and frantically drying Jensen’s face with it. “Did you spray his face? What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

“I just... It’s raining. I was shaking my hair out of my eyes. I didn’t... Look, what’s going on?”

The guy looks up at that, blue eyes piercing, and Jared involuntarily takes a step back. “You’re that guy. The one who came in last Friday,” the guy says, and it sounds so vicious Jared backs further away.

“Yeah, I...” His mouth snaps shut as the guy stands up and gets in his face – or rather his chest, considering Jared’s almost a foot taller.

“Get out! Get the fuck out of here or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for stalking!”

Jared blinks. “What? Hey, no! I’m not...” Shorty pushes him and he stumbles backwards, hitting his ass on the counter. “Wait. Will you just listen to me? I’m not stalking him. I have no idea who he is! I just came to get coffee, and he freaked out, okay?”

“Don’t even try it,” Shorty growls. “You told Sophia you recognized him!”

“I met him at a party! Weekend to last. That’s all.”

Shorty’s jaw tightens. “Now I know you’re lying. Jensen doesn’t do parties.”

“Okay, okay. It was more like... outside.” To his horror, Jared can feel himself blushing. “He kinda jumped me in the dark and... you know,” he says, fidgeting.

Shorty stares at him. He blinks. Then he looks down at Jensen who’s still out cold on the floor. “Oh. Oh fuck. Jesus, Jensen...” He rubs a hand over his face, groaning. “This is so screwed up.”

Jared swallows. “Look, is he gonna be okay? I really didn’t mean to spook him. I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Jensen doesn’t talk, kid,” Shorty says, sounding more tired now than angry. “No offense, he just... He doesn’t talk, okay?”

“He talked to me,” Jared says awkward, and Shorty’s eyes snap up to stare at him again. “Well, you know, he told me his name. Last time I was here.”

“He talked to you?” Shorty looks stunned. “Actually opened his mouth and spoke out loud?”

“Uhm, yes?” Jared glances down at Jensen. He doesn’t look quite as pale, but he’s not exactly the picture of health either. “Shouldn’t we move him somewhere more comfortable?”

Shorty jerks out of his stupor and looks down. “What? Yeah, I should...” He crouches by Jensen’s side and hauls him up to a sitting position. “Fuck, I’m too old for this shit,” he groans.

“Let me,” Jared offers, and before Shorty can tell him to fuck off he’s got Jensen’s arm slung over his neck and lifts him up, clutched to his chest. “Where can I put him?”

Shorty seems to hesitate, but then he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “He can be out for a while, and I was about to close up. We live just around the corner. You think you can carry him?”

Jared nods, adjusting his hold. Jensen is pretty thin, but he’s still a grown man, and the weight is considerable. It would be easier to carry him over the shoulder, but it doesn’t feel right, throwing the guy around as if he was a bag of potatoes. Plus this way Jared can see Jensen’s face, really close. And that’s a pretty sight he’d hate to miss.

He waits as Shorty locks the register and turns off all the lights, and then they head out. It’s stopped raining – finally! – and the autumn air is fresh as Jared breathes it in.

“I’m Chris by the way,” Shorty says as he locks the door. “Jensen’s friend.” It sounds a little odd, like it’s a lone position.

“Jared,” Jared says. “College freshman.”

“No kidding,” Chris snorts. “You still smell like fresh laundry and your momma’s apple pie.”

Jared stiffens. “Doubt it,” he says coldly, and Chris shoots him a curious glance.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch a nerve. You just look young is all I meant.”

“I’m eighteen,” Jared says, relaxing slightly. “Old enough to fuck and die but too young to drink,” he adds with a small twist of his lips.

Chris laughs. “Another cynic. You two should get on like a house on fire,” he says and nods at the man still out cold in Jared’s arms.

Jared frowns. “I thought Jensen didn’t talk?”

Chris shrugs. “He doesn’t. Not really. But hell, he can piss you the fuck off with just a raise of his eyebrow.”

Jared looks down at Jensen’s slack face and smiles a little. “Yeah?” He glances over at Chris, unsure. “Can I ask you something?”

The smile drops off Chris’s face. His shoulders visibly tense and his gaze turns guarded. “You can. Not sure I’ll answer though.”

“Fair enough.” Jared bites his lip. “I was just wondering... That night, was I...? Should I have stopped him? I mean, is he like...? Was I taking advantage of him?”

Chris laughs. It sounds cold and tired. “He’s not mentally disabled or anything. He just... sometimes does things he shouldn’t. It’s not your fault.”

Jared swallows and pulls Jensen a little tighter to his chest. “Okay. That’s... good. I mean, obviously it’s not good for him. I was just worried I had, you know...”

Chris gives him a grim smile. “Jensen is an adult. He knows what he’s doing. He just doesn’t really know why he’s doing it.”

The last sentence is uttered so low Jared can barely make out the words. He gives Chris a confused glance but the man offers no further explanation, and suddenly they’re outside a tall building with Chris opening the door.

“First floor,” he says. “Come on up.”

Jared follows him up the stairs and through another door into a large studio apartment. “His bed is over there,” Chris says and nods toward the far side of the room under the big windows. “Just drop him in and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Jared nods and walks across the room to lay Jensen’s limp form on the bed, then pulls away reluctantly, his arms and back aching from the weight. It feels weird to just walk away but the truth is he’s a stranger, this isn’t really his concern, and he can see that Chris is already anxious for him to leave.

“Let me know if I can do anything,” he still offers.

“We’ll be fine,” Chris says curtly.

“Right.” Jared bites his lip, not sure how to proceed. “Yeah, of course. I just... You think maybe...? Is it okay if I come by the coffee shop again? Or do you think...?” He stops, blushing a little.

Chris looks over at Jensen then back at Jared, a frown forming between his eyes, like something is bugging him. His lips purse, and the frown turns into a speculative gaze. “Wait a few days,” he finally says. “And just... don’t be pushy. If he doesn’t want you there, you leave. All right?”

Jared nods. “Right. Yeah. Here.” He pulls the small notebook he always carries with him out of his pocket and scribbles his name and number. “This is me. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Chris looks skeptical, but he accepts the note Jared holds out and pockets it. “Listen, kid. I don’t know what you think you’re getting yourself into here, but my advice would be to walk away and don’t look back.”

It sounds more like a warning than an advice and Jared isn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ve already done my share of walking,” he says. “I’d rather stick around this time. He seems worth it.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “Just ‘cause you fucked him once doesn’t mean you have any dibs on a second round,” he says coldly. “So if that’s why you want to ‘stick around’ then I suggest you get lost, before I beat the living shit out of you.”

Jared can feel his face flush red. “I didn’t fuck him,” he grits out. “He... Look, it doesn’t matter. I just... It felt like we connected. Not then, not like that, but the other day. Friday. Before he freaked out on me. And I just... I thought maybe he could use a friend. Other than you. And that girl... Sophia? And whoever else who is already his friend, and I don’t know about, because I just met the guy, and we haven’t gotten to the actual talking part yet. And probably never will considering he doesn’t actually talk.”

Jesus, he’s rambling. Jared closes his eyes briefly before offering Chris a tight smile. “I’m just gonna leave now, before I hurt myself with all my stupidity.”

Chris is watching him, eyebrows raised. He seems more relaxed, even a little amused. Like whatever rage he’d been heading into had dissolved with Jared’s rant. “Come by on Thursday,” he says. “He likes Thursdays.”

“Uhm... okay. Why Thursdays?” Jared asks confused.

Chris smirks. “You’ll see.”

\-------

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Jensen lies still, staring up at the ceiling. What...?

He sucks in his breath and jerks up, wiping frantically at his face. His hands come away dry, but his skin still itches with the memory, and his mouth tastes foul with it. He gags, coughing and spitting, on his clothes and the blanket Chris must have thrown over him.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. Here.”

A Tic Tac is thrust into his mouth, and he chews it frantically, not breathing out, until the cool, fresh mint flavor has erased the taste of blood and brain from his tongue.

“It was just water, man. He was just shaking rain out of his hair. Stupid kid.”

Jensen stares bleary eyed at Chris. Who? And then he remembers. Shaggy hair and big hazel eyes, staring at him in concern. Strong arms pulling him tight against a broad chest. Jared.

Shit.

Jensen groans and falls back on the pillow, shielding his face with his arm. Jared. Jared came back, and he freaked out on him. Well, that’s just great. Not that he really thought anything could ever... Doesn’t mean he likes making a complete fool of himself in front of the guy.

“He’s the one you were drawing, right? Last week when...”

Chris’s voice trails off. They haven’t talked about it. Just pretended it didn’t happen. They’re pretty good at that. Pretending. Jensen has stayed home though even if he’s itching to go out. He tells himself it’s because he actually does care what Chris thinks and feels and not because the thought of blowing someone other than Jared makes him feel a little guilty. Because how stupid is that?

Chris clears his throat. “He seems like a nice kid,” he says.

Jensen shrugs. What does it matter? Not like it was ever going to go anywhere anyway. Especially not now.

“I’m sorry about, you know, what I said. I didn’t know he was... someone special. And I’m glad that you... If you are, you know...” Chris clears his throat again, awkward. “If it helps I think he likes you too.”

Jensen looks up sharply. Chris is smiling. There’s something in his eyes that feels new and foreign. Jensen isn’t sure, but he thinks it might be hope.


	2. Chapter 2

_ July 1999 _

_‘Mom! MOM!’_

_Jensen coughs, his eyes watering, but it’s no use. She’s right there, he can see her through the crack in the door but unless she looks his way she won’t notice that he’s trying to catch her attention. She’s standing in the hallway, arms hugging herself, talking to someone Jensen can't see. Whoever it is, he’s making her cry. Again. One of the doctors then. Probably. The doctors keep asking his parents to step out into the hall to talk in hushed voices and when they come back in they always look like someone died. Like_ he _died. But he’s not dead. He’s right here. Why are they still crying when he’s right here?_

_Mom cries all the time, quiet tears when he’s awake, loud sobbing when she thinks he’s sleeping. Dad says she’s sad because he’s in the hospital, that she’ll be happy again once he’s home. Jensen doesn’t believe him._

_It’s not the place that’s making her cry, it’s him. Him with his weak body and his pale face and his cough and his nightmares and his eyes that won’t look at her and his skin that can’t bear the touch of her and his voice that’s_ not there _._

_Her head pops in through the doorway, the smile forced, her eyes swollen. “You okay, honey? You need something?”_

_He looks away and pretends he doesn’t hear her. He can’t remember what it was that he wanted anyway._

\------------

Present day

Thursday afternoon Jared finds himself mulling over an assorted selection of clothes spread out on his bed. Assorted in the sense of being the only items he owns. He feels nervous, which is pretty understandable, and excited which is... idiotic. And a little creepy considering he’s having very impure thoughts about a guy who is possibly brain damaged. Or at least seriously disturbed. He’s just glad Chad won’t be home until late, because he doesn’t think he can take another lecture on why trying to get to know Jensen is a sure ticket to cock-less Crazyville.

In the end he opts for low-cut jeans, a brown, long-sleeved t-shirt under a grey hoodie, and his old leather jacket. October is just around the corner, with preparations for Halloween already hovering in the air. Jared hopes it doesn’t get too cold in the winter, since he doesn’t really have winter clothes. He’d figured he could just pile on everything else he owns. Comfort in layers.

He forgot to ask Chris at what time he should show up, and, jogging across campus, he starts to worry that maybe he’s too late already. As he gets closer to The Black Bean he hears cheerful music that reminds him somewhat depressingly of Saturday mornings with his sister, watching cartoons and trying not to laugh too loud or their parents would wake up. Swallowing the sharp pain of grief for a life he’ll never be a part of again, he pushes the door open. Bright laughter, and the warm smell of cocoa and paint hits him straight on. He looks around confused, at the kids occupying nearly every spot in the coffee shop, the large sheets of paper covering the tables, and the pencils and paint everywhere. Huh?

“I want a dinosaur! Jensen, do a dinosaur! Please!”

Jared traces the voice to a small kid jumping up and down, chanting “Dinosaur!” and “Please! Please!” at the man hunched over one of the tables. Sure enough it’s Jensen, wearing a ratty old t-shirt smeared with paint and sticky fingerprints.

“Dinosaur!” the boy shrieks, excited when Jensen obviously complies, and Jensen laughs, a low rumbling noise that seems to come from his chest rather than his mouth.

“Easy, tiger,” he says in that rough voice Jared remembers from two weeks ago, and his jaw drops in surprise. What?

“Catching flies?” an amused voice says beside him, and he turns around to see Chris watching him with a grin.

“He’s talking,” Jared says confused. “I thought he didn’t talk.”

“Jensen?” Chris asks casually, like there could be any other. “Only when he feels like it.” He shrugs. “He likes kids.”

“Oh.” Jared looks around. It’s like a colorful kindergarten with kids everywhere. Drawing, and painting, and drinking hot cocoa and laughing. Running around with dripping brushes and poking each other with pencils. Some are even singing. Far as he can tell there are no adults about, apart from Jensen, Chris, and Sophia who’s working behind the counter, handing out paper cups with hot cocoa and whipped cream. “Wow. Where do they all come from?”

“Campus staff. They drop them off for a couple of hours every Thursday. It started with Jensen’s old teachers from the art department, but by now we get pretty much every kid there is. It’s become a thing, I guess.”

Jared has to admit he’s duly impressed. “How long have you been doing this?”

Chris laughs. “I’m not doing anything. Except help clean up after the little monsters. No, this is all Jensen.” 

Jared gives Chris a skeptical look. “Jensen organized this?”

Chris looks away, shrugging. “Nothing to organize,” he mutters, looking uncomfortable. “They just started showing up one day, and, you know, things developed.”

It’s such bullshit Jared doesn’t even bother calling him out on it. Instead he turns back to watching Jensen, who is showing a little girl how to draw a cat, her small hand completely engulfed in his as he moves it across the sheet of paper.

“Like this,” he’s saying, smiling a little when she sticks her tongue out between her teeth in concentration. “Good.”

It’s not the most eloquent speech Jared has ever heard, but the words still tug at his chest, bringing a lump to his throat that he has trouble swallowing down. 

“It’s quite something,” he says, voice low. 

“Yeah. It is.” There’s a small silence, and then Chris clears his throat. “Right. You want coffee?”

“What? Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. You still have to pay for it,” Chris huffs and walks over to talk to Sophia. She looks over at Jared, frowning. Jared gives her a little wave, wondering if she still hates him, or if Chris cleared up that whole stupid misunderstanding.

He turns back to find Jensen standing frozen by the table he’d been sitting at moments before, staring at Jared like he’s a ghost. 

Jared swallows. Okay. Here goes nothing.

He walks over slowly, stopping about six feet away. “Hey,” he says, feeling a little awkward. “Remember me?”

Jensen blinks. He looks distraught, like he’s seriously contemplating pushing past Jared and fleeing out the door, but just then a small boy runs by and knocks into him, spilling cocoa all over himself. Jensen catches the boy a fraction of a second before he hits the floor and hauls him back to his feet. He frowns at the dark brown stain on the boy’s jeans and the puddle spreading on the floor.

“Sorry,” the kid says, lip wobbling. “Was an accident.”

“’S okay,” Jensen murmurs as he pats the kid’s shoulder. He walks the boy over to the counter, grabs a handful of napkins and helps him clean up. When the kid runs off, wet jeans and spilled cocoa already forgotten, Jensen straightens up and gives Jared a tentative smile. 

“Jared,” he says in that hoarse voice of his that makes Jared shiver. 

“Yeah.” Jared smiles back. They stand gazing at each other for a moment until the silence gets a little too much for Jared and he waves his hand at the chaos surrounding them. “This is cool,” he says. “I mean, they’re clearly having fun.”

Jensen nods. He looks around, his smile turning soft. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jared is struck once again by just how goddamn pretty Jensen is.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he says just to say something. 

Jensen looks at him, frowning a little. Jared laughs awkwardly. Of course he didn’t know Jensen could draw. He doesn’t know anything about the guy. 

“Wanna show me?” he says, cringing when he realizes he sounds like he’s talking to a five year old. Jesus, he’s bad at this. “I mean, I’d like to see. If you don’t mind.”

Jensen hesitates a moment before giving a small shrug. He walks back to the booth, and Jared follows him, sliding in on the opposite side. Jensen glances at him, looking a little wary, but then he concentrates on the blank paper in front of him. He works fast, his right hand moving the pencil in quick and sure strokes, the left one shielding his work from Jared’s curious eyes. Jared glances over at the counter and catches both Chris and Sophia watching them with matching odd looks on their faces. Like they’re not sure whether they should be hopeful or worried. He gives them a quick smile, and Sophia hesitantly smiles back, but Chris just purses his lips.

Jared turns back to find Jensen watching him impatiently. Jensen turns the paper 180 degrees and there is Jared’s own face, staring up at him. He looks strangely sad, the way he looks most mornings in the mirror before he’s managed to put his game face on. It’s a little unsettling, the possibility that Jensen can see beyond the mask he’s worked so hard at presenting.

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/234555/original.jpg)

 

“That’s...” he says and clears his throat. “Wow. That is amazing. You are really talented.” He looks up to give Jensen a smile and catches him staring with this strange expression on his face that drops as soon as he realizes he’s being watched back. Instead he looks down and starts doodling on a new sheet of paper, a complex design that looks beautiful and chaotic.

“Uhm…” 

Jared hesitates. He’s not really sure how to bring the whole blowjob thing up again, considering Jensen’s reaction last time. To tell the truth he’s not sure if he should bring it up at all. Maybe Jensen wants to pretend it didn’t happen. Hell, Jared suddenly realizes, maybe Jensen doesn’t even remember it happening. Or he doesn’t realize it was Jared, seeing as it was pitch dark. Except you don’t just grab whoever walks by and gay-kiss them unless you have a serious death wish. So chances are he’d been watching Jared’s pathetic attempts at flirting with guys at that party, maybe through the window, and decided to wait for him to come out.

“Sorry,” Jensen suddenly mumbles, startling Jared out of his thoughts. He’s still drawing, sharp nervous strokes of the pencil. Slowly but surely it takes the form of a couple, one pressing the other up against a wall. 

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/234486/original.jpg)

Jared swallows. Okay, so that’s a yes, Jensen clearly does remember.

“Don’t be,” Jared tells him, keeping his voice low as well. “You made my night. Well, month is more like it. Or, you know, considerably _more_ than that seeing as it was my first time. With a guy that is.” 

His cheeks are burning but when Jensen glances up at him, alarmed, Jared keeps his gaze steady and the smile small but genuine. “I thought stuff like that only happened in my late night fantasies,” he jokes. “Except they usually star someone like Matt Bomer. You are totally hotter, just to be clear.”

Jensen coughs a short laugh. He’s a little flushed, but he seems less on edge. He keeps adding to the drawing, small details like the lock of hair that always gets in Jared’s eyes, and the rip in the collar of his own t-shirt.

“So,” Jared says after a while since Jensen doesn’t seem to have anything verbal to add, “my name is Jared Padalecki, and I’m a freshman. Taking pre-law, and psych and hating both. To be honest I have no fucking idea what I’m doing here, I just needed to get away from home, I guess. I’m eighteen, by the way, so I’m all legal, don’t worry.”

Jensen snorts. He adds a little blush to Jared’s cheeks and lengthens his eyelashes, making him look young and innocent. Jared laughs.

“Just because you’re my first guy doesn’t mean I’m a total newbie,” he says with a smirk.

Jensen looks at him, eyes speculating, then he quickly draws a sexy female angel on Jared’s right shoulder and a smug looking male devil on his left before glancing up again, clearly curious.

Jared shakes his head. “Nah, more limited access. And doing what was expected so no one would call me on it and consequently, you know, blow my brains out or something.”

Jensen jerks so violently the pencil skitters across the sheet, ripping right through it. He sucks in his breath then quickly slides out of the booth. Jared moves to catch his wrist but stops himself at the last moment, remembering Jensen’s reaction in the alley. “Jensen, what?” 

He’s fighting to get his long legs out from under the table when Jensen suddenly stops short.

“Can I get a unicorn?” asks the small girl tugging at his hand. She looks no older than five, with a pink ribbon in her unruly hair, a mess of paint covering the front of her t-shirt, and eyes that would put the sweetest puppy to shame. “Please?”

Jensen stands still, chest heaving. Then he looks down at the girl and gives her a thin smile. She squeals happily and drags him across the floor to her table, pushing him to sit down and handing him a jar filled with assorted colored pencils.

Jared breathes out. What the hell did he say this time? Was it the whole gay bashing thing? Probably. Could be personal experience Jensen would rather not be reminded of. And Jared had just thrown it flippantly out there, like it was a joke. Fuck. He groans, rubbing his hand over his face before standing up and walking over to the counter. Sophia is alone. Jared spots Chris hovering close by Jensen, pretending to be cleaning paint spatters off the panel. 

“Think I’ll have that coffee now,” he says with a small smile, digging into his pocket for change. “Can I get a macchiato?

Sophia has stopped smiling, but she doesn’t look hostile, like last time, just worried. “Sure,” she says and disappears behind the espresso machine. 

When she comes back she waves off the charge. “On the house. Let’s call it my apology for yelling at you the other night.”

Jared gives her a tired smile. “I seem to have upset him again so maybe you should hold that apology until I deserve it.”

“If I yelled at everyone who got Jensen upset I’d be hoarse by now,” she says with a small smile back. “You just caught me at a bad time. And you seemed to be all up in his business so I kinda flipped on you.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Just shut up and drink your coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” He sips the coffee and grins at her. “Not as good as Jensen’s but close.”

“Watch it, kid.” She eyes him speculatively. “So why this interest in Jensen?”

To his horror Jared can feel himself blushing. “No reason,” he says. “He just seems... nice.”

She quirks her eyebrow at him, the smirk small but smug even if her eyes stay guarded. “You mean hot.”

Fuck, he’s getting redder by the minute. “Well, yeah. That too.” 

He glances over, but Jensen is still drawing, and Chris has dropped all pretense of cleaning and just stands by Jensen’s side, hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not blind, okay?” Jared says quietly. “But it’s not just that. I don’t know. I just felt some kind of connection. Which is stupid, I know, but I thought maybe if we got to know each other a little better we could be... I don’t know, friends?”

She nods slowly, all serious now. “With benefits?” she asks quietly.

He goes still. “Not to be rude, but I really don’t think that’s any of your business. Or Chris’s.”

“Look–” she starts but Jared cuts her off.

“No, you look. I get that Jensen has some issues, and that you guys feel really protective of him, but it’s not like he’s a kid. If – and that’s a _big_ if – I wanted us to be something more, and he didn’t, I’m sure he’d tell me so himself. Or, you know, let me know somehow.” He puts a handful of change on the counter and gives her a tight smile. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Jensen doesn’t just have ‘some issues’, okay?” Sophia says sharply as he turns away. “You could write a whole fucking book on his issues and still only scratch the surface. So just... Be careful. For both your sakes.”

He looks over his shoulder, but she’s already turned her back on him and is busying herself behind the counter, her shoulders tight with tension. Jared sighs. He looks over to where Jensen is now showing the little girl her drawing. He’s smiling, pointing out various things, and she’s talking happily, not seeming to mind that she’s not getting any answer. Jared hesitates. Maybe he should just leave. He doesn’t really feel welcome although Jensen seems more indifferent than adverse. Like he wouldn’t even notice if Jared followed Chris’s advice and walked out, never to come back. Maybe they’re right, all of them. Maybe it isn’t worth it after all.

He drains the last drops of coffee, puts the mug quietly on a nearby table and heads for the door. 

“Jared!”

Jared stops and slowly turns around. 

Jensen is standing on the other side of the room, watching him with wide and confused eyes. “You’re leaving?” he says. 

His voice, although hoarse, is just about loud enough to carry across the floor, above the carefree chatter of the kids and the annoyingly cheerful music blasting from the speakers. Chris stares at him, looking shocked, and out of the corner of his eye Jared can see Sophia put a hand to her chest.

“Not necessarily,” Jared says slowly. “I can stay. If you want me to.”

Jensen smiles. It looks a little strange, like he’s not used to stretching his cheeks that wide. He nods then sweeps his hand across the room, indicating the kids who have started to gather their drawings, some are even pulling on their jackets and coats, smiling parents waiting patiently by their side. He gives Jared another look, questioning, hesitant. Hopeful. 

Jared smiles. Nods. “I’m in no hurry,” he says easily. “Take your time.” 

Jensen ducks his head, still smiling shyly. He turns away and consequently catches Chris staring at him. The smile turns into a smirk as he reaches over and puts a finger under Chris’s chin, pushing his jaw up to close his mouth. Then he starts putting away crayons and brushes but not before giving Jared a small wink. 

Jared laughs, both at the stunned look on Chris’s face and the mischievous one Jensen keeps sending him. Oh yeah, he really wants to get to know this Jensen, issues and all.

\--------------

“...and that’s when Chad says, ‘If girls don’t have Adam’s apples how come the chick I made out with last night did?’ You should have seen his face when I explained it to him.”

Jensen laughs. His shoulders shake with it, but there’s hardly any sound except for sharp intakes of breath through his nose, as his lips are pursed tight. Jared grins. If it takes the rest of the semester he’s going to make Jensen laugh out loud, a real belly laugh that has him doubling over and clutching his stomach, heaving for breath. It’s the first goal Jared has set for himself since he moved here, and even if it might not be academically significant, it still feels more important than anything else he might achieve.

They’ve been walking for over an hour. The air is crisp and a little cold but Jared feels warm, and he’s a little out of breath from talking pretty much non-stop since they stepped out of the coffee shop. Jared doesn’t think he’s talked so much since before he realized what was wrong with him and became terrified he’d start to lisp or just say ‘wrong’ things. He hadn’t realized how much he missed just talking about everything and anything without having to worry that he’d give away his big gay secret. 

Jensen hasn’t said a word yet, just nodded or shaken his head or smiled a little crookedly at the appropriate moments. He seems content to just listen to Jared babble, but eventually even Jared gets tired of hearing his own voice fill up all the silence.

“Feel free to jump in at any time,” he says. “Or, you know, wave or something.”

Jensen snorts but his cheeks turn a little red. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I–” His voice cuts off and he coughs then clears his throat, grimacing.

“It’s cool,” Jared hurries to tell him, feeling like a jerk. “Just thought maybe you were getting sick of listening to me monologue. I’m blaming the coffee, man. I don’t usually talk this much.” He throws Jensen an embarrassed grin, and Jensen gives him a small smile back.

They walk in silence for a while. Jensen has his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, making his shoulders hunch up a little, but he doesn’t seem on edge, just deep in thought and maybe a little cold. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it still feels a little empty after all the talking Jared’s been doing.

“You ever think of learning sign language?” Jared says after a while. Jensen snorts and looks up at him with a smile that turns confused and then into a frown when he realizes Jared isn’t joking.

“I know you’re not deaf,” Jared hastens to say. “I just thought since you don’t like talking...”

Jensen clenches his jaw. He looks pissed off, his shoulders tensing. “Same thing, different language,” he says hoarsely and shakes his head as if disgusted. 

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. That was stupid.” Jared’s quiet for a while, hoping for the tension to ease but if anything Jensen seems to get wound tighter with every minute. “You want to go back?” he finally asks.

Jensen nods, and when they stop to turn around he doubles the space between them, making it look accidental, but the hint is as subtle as a blow to the head. Jared swallows. Guess he deserved that. They walk back in tense silence.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” Jared starts when they’re about twenty feet away from The Black Bean, at the same moment as Jensen mutters, “Thought you didn’t mind.” 

He sounds bitter, hurt even, and Jared flinches with guilt. Hadn’t Chris told him not to be pushy? Instead he pretty much told Jensen he wasn’t good enough, because he doesn’t mouth off all the time.

“I _don’t_ mind,” Jared says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that, really. I was just curious. I thought maybe it hurt you to talk. Your voice is a little rough, like maybe your throat hurts and I thought...” He stops. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I really don’t mind. I promise.”

Jensen stops in front of the coffee shop, staring in through the window. Chris is mopping the floor, and Sophia is putting away clean cups and glasses. They’re talking and laughing, and every now and then they catch each other’s eye then look away again, smiling awkwardly. Jared hardly knows them, but even he can tell they’re flirting. Judging by the look on Jensen’s face he can tell as well, and he seems conflicted about it, like he’s not sure he likes it.

“Jensen,” Jared pleads, afraid that if he loses Jensen inside he’ll never see him again. 

Jensen clenches his jaw and shakes his head. Then he pushes the door open and walks in, leaving Jared standing on the sidewalk, feeling confused and guilty and really disappointed. Fuck.

\--------------

The phone wakes him up, loud and shrill and annoying. There’s a grunting sound from Chad’s side of the room that sounds like “Fuck off and die!” as Jared fumbles blindly for the phone and sleepily flips it open.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, checking his clock. It’s not even ten yet. On a Saturday. Who calls before ten on a Saturday?

“Where the hell are you? It’s been two fucking weeks! What, you decide he was too much work for you? Is that it?”

“What?” Jared sits up, rubbing one hand over his face. “Who is this?”

“You don’t even have the decency to let him know you’ve dumped his ass? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jared blinks. He’s still not sure he’s actually awake. “Chris?”

“You know how long it’s been since he tried to get to know anyone? Not since... _Never_ , that’s what! And now he’s finally trying, and you just... I’m gonna kick your ass! I’m gonna find out where you live and I’m gonna break in there and fucking punch your face in!”

Okay, _that_ wakes him up! 

“Whoa! Hold on! Wait a minute. I didn’t _dump_ him. _He_ walked away. Fucking left me on the sidewalk and closed the door in my face. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

He can practically hear the man roll his eyes. “That he’s Jensen, and that’s what he does? He’s an asshole, okay? He’s a jerk, a selfish prick and a fucking moron. But that doesn’t mean you just give up on him.”

“Uhm...” Jared really has no idea what he’s supposed to say to that. “You do remember I don’t actually know him, right? I’ve met him like three times, heard him say a handful of words. How am I supposed to know what he’s like? Not that your description is really encouraging. If he’s such an asshole, why should I even want to get to know him?”

Chris is silent for so long Jared is starting to think he hung up. “Because it’s not his fault,” he finally says, voice low. “And if you can help him understand that, if you can help him get out of the stupid rut he’s been stuck in for the last twelve years, maybe he won’t stay such an asshole.”

“ _What_ isn’t his fault?” Jared asks exasperated. “How am I supposed to help him if I don’t even know what his problem is?”

The line goes silent again but then Chris says, “Google Jensen Ackles. A-C-K-L-E-S. March 1999.” And he hangs up.

Jared lets himself fall back on the bed. His head hurts. He can still taste vodka in his mouth. And what may be vomit. Urgh. He pulls the covers over his head. Just five more minutes and he’ll get right on that Googling thing. 

 

Googling “Jensen Ackles” with the timeframe Chris provided gives Jared about five hundred hits, most of them news sites. The listed headlines hit him like a sledgehammer and he stares at them in shock. The date fits. The name fits. But...

Shaken he stands up and walks circles around the room, hands tugging at his hair. He feels a little dizzy. Jesus. There must be more than one Jensen Ackles, right? It’s just a coincidence. Because this... It’s just too fucking messed up.

In the end curiosity overpowers dread and he sits down again, his stomach twisting into a knot as he clicks the first link.

**“Kidnapped Boy Rescued By Police”** it says in black bold letters across the screen. He reads on, feeling like he’s stuck in an episode of _Without A Trace_ , except uglier and way too real. Words jump out at him: _“ten years old”_ and _“missing for three weeks”_ and _“presumed dead”_. And then finally, _“Suspected kidnapper shot during an FBI rescue mission”_. 

Jared swallows. Holy crap.

He quickly looks through the rest. They all tell more or less the same story. He finds interviews with the boy’s teachers and his grandparents. Statements from the police as the search drags on. A picture of the boy’s parents, pleading for their son’s life. Dead ends and false information. Gold diggers and fake psychics. Despair. Loss of hope.

And then there’s a scan of the front page of _Time_ magazine. A small boy being carried out in the arms of a SWAT team member. His face, hair, and dirty t-shirt spattered red. Ripped jeans with dark rivers running down the legs. A single blue sneaker and a small foot wearing a dirty white sock. Mouth open in a silent scream.

Jared stares at the picture. It’s Jensen, there’s no doubt about it. Those are the same green eyes, mad with terror. The same golden freckles peeking out between smears of blood. It’s him. It’s really him.

Jared gets up, pushing away from the desk so fast his chair topples over and he trips over it, stumbling awkwardly and finally landing on Chad’s bed. He lies there, knees too weak to even contemplate getting up again, and stares up at the ceiling. He feels sick, bile rising in his throat and cramps fisting his stomach. He closes his eyes, but the little boy’s face is branded into his memory, and he can’t erase it. Those big green eyes, that open mouth. That mind-shattering terror.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen,” he says out loud, his voice breaking on the last word. “No wonder you’re so screwed up.”

It takes him half an hour before he trusts himself to pick up the phone.

“I need to talk to you,” Jared says, keeping his voice low. “I did my Googling and I... I just really need to talk to you.”

“You gonna run or stay?” Chris asks bluntly. 

Jared hesitates. Run would be the logical answer. He has enough on his plate without adding to it.

“I’m staying,” he says anyway. “But I need some answers. I’m not asking you to spill all his secrets, just tell me enough to keep me from putting my foot in my mouth all the time.”

Chris is silent for a moment but then he says, “Okay, shoot.”

Jared breathes in. “That’s really him? On the cover of _Time_ magazine?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Not like he doubted it but still... Shit. “Were you there? I mean, did you know him back then?”

“Kinda. We went to the same school though I’m older. So I knew what had happened. Everyone did. The whole school was buzzing with it. Parents all paranoid, everyone screaming about school security... It was a fucking circus.”

“Okay, so what _did_ happen? Someone just snatched him? Who? What for? Ransom?”

“He disappeared on his way home from school.” Chris pauses then adds in a blank voice, “No ransom.”

Jared blinks. “Then why the hell– Oh. Oh my God.” He covers his mouth with his hand, his mind reeling. “No.”

“Yes. That’s what we think anyway.” Chris clears his throat on the other end of the line. “We don’t really know. See, here’s the thing: Jensen doesn’t remember any of that. He’s blocked it all out except for the day he was rescued, that he does remember, way too vividly. Some overeager fed blew the guy’s brains out as he was trying to escape. His head exploded like a goddamn melon. He was using Jensen as a shield, and half his brain ended up in the poor kid’s face. He got a mouthful. Literally.”

Jared fumbles blindly behind him until he finds the edge of the bed and drops down. He feels sick, and he has to take a few gulps of breath to keep from throwing up. “Oh God,” he says. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, all quiet now.

Jared closes his eyes. They sting and he wipes at them with his fingers, not surprised when his fingertips come away wet. His nose itches, and his neck feels hot and sweaty. “Is that... is that why he doesn’t talk?”

“I think so. He has PTSD, that’s what they say. He’s had therapy, hypnosis, the works. Doesn’t seem to do much. They all say the only way to deal with it is to talk about it and Jensen won’t talk so...”

“But if he was... abused, wouldn’t they have been able to tell? I mean...” Jared swallows. “You know what I mean.”

“Depends.” Chris clears his throat but his voice still comes out rough like gravel. “If he was raped then yeah, they would have found evidence. If the guy limited himself to other stuff... I don’t know. I tried to find out, but the records are sealed, his parents won’t talk about it, and Jensen doesn’t remember.”

“But his therapist...”

Chris sighs. “Kid, I’m telling you, I don’t know. Not like she’d tell me. Confidentiality and all that. I’m just a friend, man. I’m not family.” He sounds bitter. “But the guy had a record of liking small boys, so I think we can assume he did something. I just don’t know what.” 

“But–”

“I don’t know anything, okay?” Chris snaps. His voice sounds strained, like there’s only so much he can share before he needs to punch someone. 

Jared bites his lip. There are so many questions he wants to ask, so many things he doesn’t want to know but thinks he should, for Jensen’s sake. But he can tell he’s inching toward the edge of Chris’s patience. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says instead. “It helps.”

“He ever find out I told you about... You tell him, and I’ll kill you. I mean it. Only reason I did was to keep you from messing him up even further. ‘Cause he’s damn edgy, man. Doors slamming, cars backfiring, anything like that, and he’s ten years old again, scared out of his mind. And you saw what happened when you got his face wet. He can’t go out when it’s raining. Took years to get him to take a shower. And he doesn’t like to be restrained, it freaks him out. That includes hugging and, I’m guessing, sex, although I try my best not to think about that. This is what you’re getting yourself into. Think you can handle it?”

Jared swallows. “I don’t know but I want to try.”

“Why? And don’t give me that connection crap again.”

Jared opens his eyes. There are cracks on the ceiling that form a pattern as complicated as he’s about to make his life.

“Because I can’t get him out of my head, that’s why. Might as well have him in my life too.”

Chris is silent for a moment. “Good answer,” he says and hangs up.

\-----------

Detachment. That’s what they called it when Jensen stopped recognizing love. Like his heart had severed itself from his veins, making it impossible for those kind of feelings to reach his head, his mind and soul. Emotional detachment.

His mother cried, and he felt annoyed with her whining. His father hugged him, and it felt like he was being strangled. His brother asked if he was all right, and Jensen wondered why he cared. His little sister drew him pictures, and Jensen threw them away. They were just people, just names and titles that didn’t touch him, because he wasn’t a son anymore, he wasn’t a brother. He wasn’t the person they wanted, and he didn’t really want them. He just wanted to be left alone. When they finally let him go, Chris clearly expected him to feel sad or abandoned, angry even. He didn’t. Doesn’t. The less people he has to interact with the better as far as he’s concerned. As long as he has Chris, he doesn’t need anyone else.

Chris loves him, Jensen knows that. Loves him like a brother, like a best friend. Like the arm that gets in the way when you’re sleeping and ends up numb and aching, and you wish you could unscrew it and put it aside, just for a while. But still a part of you, a part you need, and want and can’t think of being without. 

Jensen needs Chris, too, but that’s different. He needs him like he needs food and water. Like he needs air. His survival depends on Chris being there for him, he knows that. Without Chris he’d have ended it a long time ago. 

But he doesn’t love Chris. He doesn’t love anyone. 

It’s just the way it is. That it’s always been since that day. Emotionally detached. It’s a state Jensen has settled into. It’s what he knows, what he expects his life to be like until he dies, which he suspects will be sooner rather than later. It’s alright, he doesn’t mind. It’s comfortable knowing his heart can’t be broken. 

Or it was.

Because lately it’s like someone is trying to sew him up, to connect his veins to his heart, letting emotions travel with his blood cells to the small room inside that still vaguely remembers them. Emotions like hope, and anticipation and need beyond the physical. 

He doesn’t like it. If this is what it’s like being in touch with his feelings he’d rather skip it. Before he wouldn’t have cared that Jared gave up on him so easily. But now... Now it hurts. Physically hurts in his chest, like his heart is missing a piece. And what’s good in that?

\--------------

Jared waits until the last customer leaves, and Jensen moves to close, before stepping out of the shadows and knocking lightly on the door. Jensen looks up, that same blank expression on his face that Jared remembers from before, but it changes when he sees Jared standing there, giving him a hesitant hopeful smile. Jensen steps back, a hand moving to his chest as if it hurts, but then he seems to catch himself, and his arm falls limp by his side again. He’s still staring, his mouth twitching at the corner but it’s not a smile, more a nervous tic or even a grimace. Like he’s annoyed, with himself or Jared, Jared can’t tell. In the end he gestures for Jared to come in, and he does, the gentle ping of the bell above his head sounding strangely ominous.

“Hey,” he says. Jensen gazes back at him, silent. “Uhm, right,” Jared continues awkwardly, when he realizes he’s waiting for an answer that won’t come. This whole monologue thing will take some getting used to. “Sorry for the disappearing act. Been crazy at school. “ 

It’s a lie, and they both know it, but he needs an excuse, and Jensen apparently lets him have it, because he just blinks, face void of expression. 

“I was gonna call but...” Jared raises his eyebrows and tries for a smile. Jensen’s lips twitch again, but Jared still can’t tell if he’s biting back a smile or a frown. “I was afraid once you started with the heavy breathing, I’d go off track and just jerk off instead.”

This time it’s clearly a smile even if Jensen is biting his lip, desperately trying to suppress it.

“Anyway,” Jared continues lightly. “Are you closed? Because I’ve been craving one of your macchiatos like crazy. I swear, I’ve been having dirty dreams about them, they’re so good. I could live on nothing else. Except then I’d be both fat _and_ hyperactive, and, dude, you do not want that. I’d be all bouncing around, and bam! I’d crush you, just like that.”

Jensen snorts. He moves behind the counter and starts making Jared his coffee. Jared thinks he can see him mouth, “Idiot,” but if there’s a sound it gets lost in the murmur of the grinder.

“You need any help closing up?” Jared asks as he looks around. The tables have been cleared, the floor is still wet from the mop, and apart from a few items in the sink it seems Jensen is more or less done. “I can totally help you clean the register,” he blabbers on nervously. “My pockets have plenty of space. There’s this coffee place I like, but the coffee there is _so_ overpriced, even if the macchiato is to die for, and the barista is like the cutest thing _ever_. Prices like that, the coffee should come with a kiss and a blowjob, I’m just sayin’.”

He hardly gets the last word out before he’s being pressed up against the door, his mouth full of Jensen’s tongue; hot and wet and demanding. Whoa!

Okay, so yeah, it’s kinda what Jared was hoping for, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen, especially not like this. It takes him a moment to shake out of his stupor and kiss back, but when he does Jensen grunts greedily, hand coming up to fist Jared’s shirt and pull him closer. Jared fumbles for Jensen’s hips, but as soon as he tries pulling Jensen closer he tenses, so Jared moves on, running his hands up Jensen’s arms and neck instead, until he’s holding Jensen’s face lightly within the cradle of his fingers. ‘I want you close,’ it’s supposed to say while still letting Jensen know that he's free to leave, whenever he wants. Jensen’s hand goes flat on Jared’s chest, fingers sliding in between the buttons of his shirt, so Jared figures the message is received. Judging by the hard ridge of Jensen’s dick rubbing against Jared’s thigh he’s more than appreciative. For being only the second gay kiss of Jared’s life, it’s pretty damn amazing.

He’s so caught up in the kiss that he doesn’t notice Jensen moving until his mouth is suddenly out of reach. “What? Oh! Jensen, no.” 

He catches Jensen by the arms and pulls him up while still holding him at an appropriate distance. Jensen looks at him warily. His pupils are blown wide, and his lips are wet and swollen and… Jesus, there’s nothing in the world Jared wants more right now than to see those lips wrapped around his dick. Except... 

“God, yes. I want that. So much you wouldn’t believe it.” He quickly catches Jensen as he starts sliding down again, and this time Jensen glares at him, clearly annoyed. “But not now. Now... now I just want to talk. And maybe okay, kiss. Kissing is fine. But just... can we take it slow?” He laughs nervously. “I’m new to all this, okay? It’s a bit overwhelming.”

Jensen’s eyes soften, and he smiles. It looks a little condescending, but Jared is okay with that. It’s not like it’s a lie, even if it’s not the main reason he wants to hold off. He _is_ new at this, and it _is_ overwhelming. A couple of months ago he was still playing the straight card, and now he’s getting blowjobs from a guy he hardly knows. Which yes, was what he thought he wanted when he first made it out here, but the truth is he wants more. He wants something real.

He kisses Jensen again then pulls away with a small grin. “You were making me coffee,” he reminds him, and Jensen rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as well, and he seems more amused now than annoyed. 

He goes back behind the counter and pushes Jared’s already brewed macchiato forward before making what Jared thinks he recognizes as a double espresso for himself. They’re both to go even if Jared didn’t ask for it so he guesses they’re not staying.

“You don’t have to close up the register?” he asks as Jensen grabs his jacket from a hanger. 

Jensen shrugs. He pulls out his phone and quickly texts a message, smirking as he sends it off.

“Oh, that’s gonna make you Mister Popular,” Jared laughs as he spots Chris’s name on the small screen.

Jensen shrugs again then shakes his head, giving Jared a quick pointed look, one eyebrow raised, before looking away, awkward. Like he’s saying Chris won’t mind, not when the reason is Jared. Jared allows himself a small grin as Jensen busies himself with locking the door, his neck flushed pink and hands shaking just a little.

They start walking, aimlessly it seems, since Jared knows it’s not in the direction of Jensen’s and Chris’s apartment, and there’s no chance in hell he’s bringing Jensen to his Chad-infested dorm room. He sips his coffee and throws curious glances at Jensen who walks beside him in trained and comfortable silence. Jared can’t help wondering how one starts – and more importantly _maintains_ – a relationship with someone who doesn’t really communicate.

He starts talking about school, but it’s not the most entertaining of subjects seeing as he’s not that enthusiastic about it. “I’m thinking of changing majors,” he says. “I chose law, because I wanted to make money, but it’s a stupid reason to base the rest of your life on, right? Five years in and I’d probably...” He’s never realized how often he uses the words ‘blow my brains out,’ until he suddenly can’t say it anymore. “...go crazy. So I’m thinking of changing to something I can actually see myself doing, even if I’ll be poor doing it.”

Jensen nods, looking at him expectantly.

“That’s just it,” Jared says frustrated, “I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life. I’ve been trying to figure it out, asking myself what do I enjoy? What am I interested in? Like, I like reading. I used to read a lot when I was a kid. Still do, just don’t have as much time with school and all. So that got me thinking of English literature. But all that leads me to is teaching. And I don’t know if I’m cut out for that. I mean, kids are cruel. They bullied the hell out of me when I was one of them, they’d probably make it their goal to make me cry on the first day if I was their teacher.”

He startles when Jensen puts out his hand, stopping him in his tracks. Jensen is gazing up at him, looking conflicted, like he’s trying to find the right words to say, and they just won’t come.

“What?” Jared asks, confused, before it dawns on him. “Oh, the bullying. I was a very gangly kid. Shot up like a weed when I was twelve and towered over everyone, all skinny legs and arms. Plus I had braces, pimples and a weird name. Didn’t help that I was terrified they’d find out I was gay.” He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Well, not that long, but, you know, it was a different life. I’m here now.”

Jensen bites his lip, nodding as if to himself. Then he looks up and puts his hand on Jared’s chest, resting it above his heart. He smiles a little sadly, pats Jared’s chest and then lays the hand over his own heart, gazing up at Jared with soft eyes. Jared blinks. He’s not sure what exactly Jensen is trying to say, but it makes his chest tighten all the same. He swallows and smiles back, sure that it looks crooked and shaky, but Jensen just nods like he understands completely. They start walking again with Jensen keeping closer this time, like he wants to make Jared feel safe and protected. It’s a little ridiculous, considering what Jensen’s been through, and what he’s still dealing with, but Jared finds himself relaxing anyway, breathing out and walking a little taller.

He became so used to walking hunched over as he kept growing taller and taller that even now he still finds himself curling his spine and shooting his shoulders forward, chest sinking into his stomach and head bowing, before he remembers he’s not that kid anymore. It’s hard to break out of the old mold, especially when he can’t really get rid of the kid inside, no matter how much he tries to tell himself he’s all grown up now.

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “what were we talking about? Right, teaching. Literature. Okay, so here’s another thing I’ve been thinking about.”

Jensen nods, smiling up at him as he rambles on and on. 

The sky grows darker, the coffee cups are emptied and thrown away, and somewhere between Jared telling Jensen about the time he almost pushed Chad out the window for smoking and explaining his love for old Hollywood movies, Jensen’s hand slips into his and doesn’t let go again.


	3. Chapter 3

_ September 1999 _

_“How old are you, Jensen?”_

_He shrugs. She knows he’s ten, it says so right there on the file in front of her._

_“Your mom tells me you keep having nightmares. Do you want to talk about them?”_

_He shakes his head._

_“You know, Jensen, being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of. But it might help if you talk about the things that scare you.”_

_He shakes his head again, picking at a hole in his jeans. He’s not scared. Only kids are scared and he’s not a kid anymore._

_Outside the open window a car door slams shut and Jensen goes rigid in his seat. In the silence that follows all that can be heard is the sound of yellow drops hitting the floor._

 

\------------

Present day

“If I ask you something do you promise not to bite my head off?”

Jensen glances up from his book, frowning. Chris looks worried, nervous even, and that’s saying something considering all the spats they’ve had over the years.

“You and Jared, have you...” Chris stops, eyes shifting. “Maybe you should get tested,” he finally blurts out. “Just in case.”

Jensen stares at him, stunned.

“You’ve been blowing guys all over campus, man,” Chris continues. His face is red, but when he finally manages to meet Jensen’s eyes his gaze is steady, determined. “Not sure how much you listened in sex ed but that’s not safe, okay? Even if you used protection. Did you? I do your laundry, man, and I’ve never found condoms or wrappers in your pockets.”

Jensen bristles. What the fuck? Who the hell does Chris think he is, his mother? With a snarl Jensen throws his book at the wall right by Chris’s head, so hard it leaves a mark in the wallpaper. To Chris’s credit he hardly even flinches.

“Look...” he starts but Jensen just flips him the middle finger before jumping up from the couch, furious. Like hell he’s gonna listen to this.

“It’s raining,” Chris points out.

Jensen stops with his hand on the doorknob, frozen in place. The walls seem to shift, closing in on him, and he starts to shake, the need to get away clashing with his fear of what’s out there. He doesn’t put it past Chris to have chosen this exact moment to speak up, because he knew Jensen couldn’t get away. Bastard.

Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and tells his claustrophobia to back the fuck off. It’s just Chris. They’re at home. The lights are on. There are windows. The doorknob turns easily in his hand. He still has the option of going out into the hall if he wants to. Holding his breath he opens his eyes again and then slowly lets the air out of his lungs. Okay. Okay. He’s okay.

“I’m not...” Chris sighs. “I’m not judging you, okay? I’m just worried. I want you to have this, this thing with Jared. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. But come on, Jensen. Jared is eighteen years old. You’re the first guy he’s ever been with. The _only_ guy. You don’t want to fuck up his life by giving him an STD, do you?”

He hadn’t thought of that. Fuck. Because Chris is right. On all accounts. He hasn’t been using protection. If he’d been craving latex in his mouth he could just as well suck on a condom and be done with it. He likes the taste of dick. Salty, tangy, the skin soft, like silk against his tongue. It’s why he does it. Well, one of the reasons anyway. Plus fuck safety, not like he was looking forward to a long prosperous life anyway.

Except now there’s Jared. And he really doesn’t want anything to happen to Jared.

Taking a deep breath Jensen turns around, licking at his dry lips. He shakes his head.

Chris breathes out. “Okay. Good. You two haven’t... Not yet, right?”

Jensen shakes his head again. His cheeks are burning. He has no idea why. Not like he hasn’t flaunted his sexcapades in Chris’s face often enough.

Chris smiles, clearly relieved. “I’ll make an appointment, okay? I’ll go with you, talk to the doctors, everything. Just let me handle it.”

Jensen nods. He feels a little sick. Before he didn’t care. Before it didn’t matter. Now it does. Now it matters a whole lot. Even if they never... He needs to know he _can_ , health wise, even if turns out he’s so emotionally fucked up he’ll stay a virgin for the rest of his life.

Presuming he still is one.

\--------------

They’ve been going out for a couple of weeks now. Jared’s not sure whether it can be called dating although they do kiss, on occasion, and sometimes Jensen will grab his hand and hold on like he’s worried Jared will suddenly change his mind and walk away.

But it’s not exactly what Jared imagined romance to be. Maybe because with as much as Jensen lets him in, the silence means it’s hard to get to know him. All the little things that people build a relationship on, finding out each other’s likes and dislikes, their common and different grounds? They don’t have that. Jared has no idea what’s going on inside Jensen’s head, what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know what kind of music Jensen likes, what movies he watches, what sport teams he follows – if any. He doesn’t know what Jensen sees when he looks at him. The prospect of talking about his feelings or asking what this thing they have is, feels awkward when he knows he’ll have to read Jensen’s response out of his face and manner.

Jensen listens while Jared talks. And he talks. He talks more than he ever remembers doing in his life. About movies he’s seen, and music he listens to. About school, and Chad and random things that pop up into his head. And then he talks about things he’s never told anyone. Like what it was like growing up gay in a family that taught him people like that were destined for Hell. How scared he was, how ashamed he felt, how close he’d come to giving up, more than once.

Jensen nods and squeezes his hand and once pulls him down and kisses him in a way that feels different than usual. Like he’s trying to kiss his words into Jared’s mouth, moving them from one brain to another with the soft press of his lips. The connection is shaky, the translation half-assed at best, but Jared thinks he can tell what Jensen means, and it’s enough to have him hitching his breath, wishing he could pull Jensen close and hug the hell out of him.

They usually meet up when Jensen is done working. Most times they walk. Side by side they’ve covered more ground in two weeks than Jared’s walked in his whole life, or so it feels. He discovers paths and places he never would have found on his own, and gets strength added to his rather spindly legs that he probably never would have developed otherwise. He stops running out of breath even when he’s yammering on for hours. And when he runs out of things to say and joins Jensen in his silence it doesn’t feel awkward or deafening anymore but comfortable and relaxing.

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/249518/249518_original.jpg)  
If it rains they sit in the coffee shop, sipping coffee while Jared talks, and Jensen draws. Sometimes just doodles or complicated patterns that are amazingly beautiful. Sometimes it follows the conversation, providing answers to questions or offering views to Jared’s points. Sometimes it’s just Jared. His eyes, his smile, the lock of his hair. His long fingers curled around a coffee mug. The curve of his ear. Jared leaves those to Jensen although he doesn’t know if Jensen keeps them or not. But the other ones? Those he slips into his bag to take out later when he’s alone in his room. He gazes at them, one by one, studying the precise lines and the softness of the shadows and tries to read Jensen’s mind in the only real outlet he has for his thoughts.

It does happen that Jensen talks. Never much, just a few words that slip out. Like when he’s agitated and seems to forget for one moment that he can’t talk. Then he spits out curses that get cut off as soon as his brain catches on, making him cough and choke. But it happens even more when he’s relaxed and, Jared assumes, happy. Then his words are teasing and his tone soft despite the roughness of his voice. At first it just happens on Thursdays, when interacting with the kids has loosened Jensen up, but after a while the words start coming at other times. A small ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or an occasional soft ‘idiot’ as he sends Jared an affectionate glance when he’s being exceptionally goofy. And then two words, three words. Developing into short sentences that have each word carefully picked out to get the most across in the fewest syllables possible.

It hits Jared every time, that hoarse quiet voice. It hits him even more when Jensen wants to talk and can’t. When the words get caught in his throat, and he starts choking, his face flushing red and his breath rasping as he coughs and clears his throat, getting frustrated and then angry when it doesn’t make a lick of difference. Sometimes Jared pretends he doesn’t notice, like it doesn’t bother him at all. Like it doesn’t break his heart listening to Jensen struggle. Sometimes he leans over and kisses Jensen just to get him to stop trying. If Jensen realizes Jared’s intentions he doesn’t object, just kisses back until they’re both out of breath and have forgotten what they were trying to talk about.

Chris is right though. Jensen is an asshole. He can be incredibly rude and he’s totally self-centered, either not noticing or just not caring that he leaves people hurt and angry at every turn. He bumps into people without apologizing, glares at strangers that bother him and purposefully turns his back on his friends when they’re trying to get through to him, refusing to acknowledge their words. He’s a complete jerk to Chris a lot of the time, so much so that Jared sometimes wonders why Chris puts up with it. He even makes Sophia cry once although she turns and walks away so quickly Jared’s pretty sure Jensen didn’t notice, being so caught up in his own anger and frustration.

“Dude,” Jared finally says when Chris storms out of the coffee house one day and slams the door behind him, leaving them in awkward silence. “You need to calm the fuck down. You’re being a jerk.”

Jensen glares at him, nostrils flaring, but then he looks away, his shoulders slump, and he nods.

“They’re being your friends, man, because they care about you. You can’t just shit all over them like that.” He sighs when Jensen just stares at the wall, jaw ticking. “Seriously, you keep that up, and one day they won’t come back.”

Jensen’s head jerks up at that. He looks guilty and a little scared. He keeps swallowing, like he’s trying to get the words out and just can’t.

“You have scary much anger inside you, Jensen,” Jared says worried. “I wish you’d let me help you deal with it, because I can tell it’s hurting you just as much as it’s hurting them.”

Jensen blinks. He licks his lips. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and the hand clutching the pencil shakes on the table. “You help,” he finally says, his voice strangled.

“Yeah?”

Jared gives him a smile, and Jensen smiles crookedly back then takes a deep breath and says, “You help me get the words out.” It’s rushed, the sounds mashed together as if he has to push them out.

Jared nods. “That’s good, right? Not that I mind you being quiet,” he hastily adds. “It just feels like they’re weighing you down, all those words you can’t say.”

Jensen drops his gaze. “Words are overrated.”

Jared waits for him to continue but Jensen’s eyes are on the table in front of them, and he doesn’t offer anything else.

“Maybe,” Jared says after a while. “I kinda like them though.” He grimaces. “Well, most of them. Not the ugly ones. Some words I really hate. Like the word fag. I _hate_ the word fag.”

Jensen looks up at him, clearly taken aback.

Jared just shrugs, uncomfortable. He has no idea why that popped into his head. Maybe because he finally has someone to talk to about things that have been weighing him down for more years than he cares to remember.

“That’s what I am, you know. A fag. Faggot. What my mother would call me if... if she knew. Dad, too. Everyone back home would. It’s why I left.” He swallows. “And I can’t ever go back. They don’t know that. They don’t know that I’m never... That I’m never going back. Because I can’t... I can’t be who I am when I’m there, and I can’t be with them, knowing what they would say if they... if they...”

Jensen’s lips are soft and warm on his. His hand on Jared’s neck is a little sweaty. His other hand slips into Jared’s, fingers tightening when Jared hitches his breath. Jared can feel a tear tickling its way down his nose, but he ignores it, because who cares about what stupid people think when he has this? When he has the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen in his whole life, kissing him like that’s the way it’s supposed to be?

“Jensen,” he whispers, and it sounds broken, and small and nothing like the grown up person he’s trying so hard to be.

Jensen kisses him again and then pulls back, looking at Jared with concern. He runs his thumb up the side of Jared’s nose, wiping the tears away.

“I’m okay,” Jared says and laughs a little. Embarrassed. “Shit, I’m sorry. I did _not_ mean to dump all that on you.”

Jensen shrugs. He palms Jared’s cheek and kisses him again before moving back to the other side of the table, never letting go of Jared’s hand. They keep silent, just gazing at each other, with Jared still hitching his breath from time to time, and Jensen clutching his hand tighter every time he does.

After a while Jared manages a smile and feels relieved when Jensen smiles back, even if he still looks concerned. “Sorry. Guess you have enough to deal with without having an emo teenager on your hands.”

Jensen’s smile slips. He pulls his hand out of Jared’s grip and to his chest, cradling it in his other hand like a hurt kitten. He bites his upper lip, chewing at it with his front teeth until it’s bruised and swollen. “You know,” he finally says in a low voice.

Jared hesitates. He’s been expecting it to come up, sooner rather than later, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to respond.

“I Googled your name,” he admits. “Read the news reports. And I saw a, a picture. The _Time_ magazine cover. It was... horrifying.”

He wants to reach across the table, reclaim Jensen’s hand, but Jensen looks like he’s on the verge of bolting, so he keeps still, watching Jensen closely for clues to what he’s thinking. Jensen is staring at his own hands on the table, rubbing his left thumb over the knuckles on his right hand in small circles.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Jared risks adding. Jensen nods, but he doesn’t look up. “I’m here if you want to... just anything. I know I talk a lot, but I’m also a good listener. Or, you know, if you just want a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on.”

“I don’t cry,” Jensen whispers hoarsely. He sounds tired. “I just get angry.”

“Well, I have a pretty broad chest if you need to hit something. Just no kicking. My legs bruise way too easily.”

Jensen smiles briefly, but it soon slips away. He takes the pencil again and pulls a new sheet out of his folder. He starts drawing: a room, a corner, a small boy with his arms around his knees, and his face hidden behind them. The drawing gets darker and darker as he adds shadows that look like monsters, reaching, clawing at him.

[ ](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3979/238636)

“That’s what you remember?” Jared asks quietly, when Jensen’s hand finally stills.

Jensen shakes his head. “Imagine. I remember...” He takes the eraser and rubs it over the drawing until there’s nothing left but grey shades and smudges, then looks up at Jared, eyes solemn. Jared swallows and nods. He can’t imagine what that’s like, knowing something awful happened to you but having no memory of it.

“But I, I think...” Jensen adds suddenly and he turns the sheet over and starts drawing on the other side.

Open eyes, open mouth, hand around the throat... The further down he moves the faster and more unsteady his hand gets. Finally it’s moving in quick jerks, so hard the tip repeatedly rips the paper until it breaks off and skitters across the table.

Jensen stops. He clutches the pencil in his hand, tighter and tighter until it snaps and falls to the table in three uneven pieces. Then he stands up and walks away, disappearing behind the counter and into the back room.

Jared sits still. He stares at the drawing where it lies on the table, the beauty of Jensen’s art in sharp contrast with the ugly horror it’s portraying. His hand trembles as he reaches forward and turns the sheet 180 degrees. Jensen’s baby face stares back at him, screaming in terror. Jared takes the drawing by the corner and slowly flips it over. Then he covers his eyes with his hand and waits until he can breathe again.

\--------------

Being with Jared is like walking in a world where Jensen’s own problems don’t matter. They’re still there, tripping him in every other step and bricking up his words within his head, but when he looks into Jared’s eyes and listens to him talk and laugh, Jensen forgets for a moment that he will never, ever be like that. He tries to hold on to those moments, capturing on paper the things that inspire them: the twinkle in Jared’s eyes, the soft line of his smile, the warm glow of his laughter. So when Jared eventually leaves him, as there's no question he will, Jensen at least has something left to remind him that, for a short while, he was as close to happy as he can get.

“You can invite him over, you know.”

Jensen nods, more to himself than in answer. His hands are covered in charcoal, there’s a smudge on his nose that keeps disturbing his vision but every time he tries to rub it away he only ends up adding to it. The drawing in front of him is almost finished, about ready to join a dozen others littering the floor.

“He’s a good kid. A little bitter...”

Jensen throws him a glare, but Chris just shrugs. “He is. Not that I blame him. You know if he’s talked to his parents since he moved here?”

Jensen shakes his head. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really feel it’s any of his business. He’s not even sure he _cares_ except for how it affects Jared. Jared clearly misses them, even if he doesn’t say it. It’s in the way he stares at the phone every time it rings, and he doesn’t answer. Jensen is glad he doesn’t. Jared came here to get away from his old life. If he makes peace with his parents, what’s to say he won’t go back to them?

“Do you talk?” Chris suddenly asks. “I mean, when you’re with him do you... Do you just... talk?” His voice is subdued, and when Jensen looks over Chris won’t meet his eyes, just studies his hands. They’re calloused from hours of playing the guitar and stained with coffee grains and the charcoal that dusts the table.

Jensen waits until Chris glances his way before shaking his head, looking at Chris in question. Of course _Jared_ talks, he never seems to shut up really, but Jensen’s the same mute freak as always, apart from the few mumbled words he manages to force out, so few they’re hardly worth mentioning. He doesn’t really get what Chris is asking. How is he supposed to ‘just talk’?

Chris nods, lips pursed. He looks a little relieved, but when he realizes Jensen is still watching him he flushes, a guilty look in his eyes. “Maybe you should,” he says lightly. “Try at least.”

It feels like a slap in the face. Jensen jerks back, the chair toppling over and falling with a clatter to the floor as he backs away from the table. “F-fuck you!” he spits out, shaking with anger. “You s-s-stupid _asshole_!”

Chris blinks, mouth falling open. “Jensen?” he says, shocked. “What–?”

“Fuck you!” He balls up the drawing and throws it at the wall where it bounces and lands on the floor, a corner of Jared’s eye staring up at them. “F-f-f–” He chokes, coughing and gagging until he finally gives up and shoves his middle finger in Chris’s face then spits on the floor in disgust.

“Jensen, wait! Hey! Don’t–”

Jensen storms out and slams the door in Chris’s face.

\--------------

The loud banging on the door almost gives Jared a heart attack. People don’t really knock around here, they just walk in like they own the place, all hours of the day. Like a guy might not have his hand down his pants every now and then. Inconsiderate assholes the bunch of them. Still, at least _then_ he doesn’t have to get up.

“This better be important,” he mutters and opens the door to a full on Jensen-attack.

“Jensen? What–?” is all he manages to get out before there’s a tongue down his throat and a hand grabbing his crotch. He’s vaguely aware of Chad cursing and saying something about, “Hey, hey! Rule number one! Rule number one! You can’t just– Fuck, I’m out of here,” before Jared’s tripping and ends up flat on the bed, hundred and sixty pounds of Jensen landing on top of him.

“Jensen, slow down. What’s a matter? Don’t... Wait... You got to... Oh fuck.”

It’s only the second blowjob he’s gotten in his life – that one girl in high school doesn’t really count – so pardon him for losing sight of his moral objectivity. Because it wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Not with Jensen so pissed off he’s growling, so goddamn upset he’s shaking like a leaf. But Jared can’t say no when... He fucking can’t– Oh God.

Jared doesn’t even have his breath back when Jensen is up and gone, door slamming shut behind him.

\--------------

Jensen pulls his upper lip in between his teeth and lets it go with a snap. He furrows his brow, glancing over at Chris then back out the window.

“I didn’t know,” Chris is saying. His voice is quiet. His eyes subdued. He looks lost and defeated. “I thought... I don’t know what I thought. That you just didn’t want to. Not that you couldn’t. I didn’t think...”

Jensen closes his eyes. ”I...” he tries but the rest won’t come and he grits his teeth in frustration. The words are there, they just won’t come out. That’s what it feels like. Like there’s a wall on his tongue that the words run into and bounce back into his brain.

“It’s okay. Don’t... Just don’t. It’s okay.” Chris puts his hand over Jensen’s fist where it lies clutched tight on the kitchen table between them and squeezes it. “I’m sorry for... I’m sorry. I should have known. I should have figured it out.”

Jensen shakes his head. ‘Not your fault,’ he should say. ‘You’re not a mind reader. I can’t expect you to know what’s going on inside my stupid head.’

What he _wants_ to say is, ‘I thought you understood. I thought you were the only one who did. Turns out you’re just as blind as everyone else. No different than my parents or all those fucking asshole doctors who think it’s my fucking choice. Who’d choose this, huh? Who the fuck would choose this? Ten years, and you don’t know me at all, do you?’

Maybe it’s just as well he can’t get the words out. He’s a big enough dick without them.

“You ever think of going back to therapy?” Chris asks hesitantly. “Might have better luck with a different psychiatrist.”

Jensen’s anger flares up again, but he forces it down. Chris is still looking like a kicked puppy, and he means well. Hell, he’s probably right. Jensen dropped out of therapy when they moved out here and away from his parents’ money. It had felt like the right thing to do, starting over on his own terms instead of continuing what everyone else wanted him to do, especially since it never felt like it did any good. And because they hardly had enough money to pay for rent and food. Asking Chris to chip in on therapy bills as well felt like taking even worse advantage of him than leeching on his devoted friendship all these years. Because that’s what he’s doing, right? Taking, and taking and never giving anything back.

“You talk more now than you did before,” Chris continues carefully. “You talk to the kids. And I’ve heard you talk to Jared. It ain’t much but... you know. Maybe you’re more receptive now than you were then.”

He doesn’t say, ‘You don’t talk to me,’ but Jensen can read it in the way his gaze slides away, and in the slight downturn of his lips that he’s trying to fight. It’s true, Jensen hardly ever talks to Chris. Which might explain why Chris didn’t make the connection the few times he’s seen him cough and choke. It’s not for whatever reasons Chris thinks though. It’s not because Jensen doesn’t think he’s worth the effort. He’s just never felt the need for words with Chris. He thought they understood each other perfectly without them.

Jensen shrugs then murmurs, “Maybe,” slipping a warm tone into his voice that he usually reserves for Jared. Chris looks up at him surprised. He breathes out then smiles, his eyes filled with gratitude. Jensen smiles back. It feels a little crooked and probably looks it too, but as long as it makes Chris happy it means it’s working.

\--------------

“That girl you’re always talking about, Danneel, she works at the library, right?”

Chad gives him an odd look, eyes narrowing. “You switching teams? ‘Cause she’s taken, man.”

“No, the gay is here to stay,” Jared says impatiently. “I just need some info, and I’m no good at research.”

Chad still looks suspicious, like he’s sure Jared is going to snatch his dream girl away from under his nose. “As long as that’s all you want,” he finally says. “What you looking for anyway?”

“Just... something for my Psych class,” Jared lies. “I’m doing a paper on PTSD.”

If anything Chad’s eyes get even squintier. “No, you’re not. You’re trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with your boyfriend.”

“What? No! I’m just...” Jared sighs. “Okay, so what if I am? I just want to get some idea what he’s dealing with.”

Chad glares at him. “He’s dealing with crazy shit, that’s all you need to know. I told you to stay away from him, dude.”

“You’re not my mother,” Jared bites back. “I can make my own mistakes. Did I try to stop you when you hit on Welling’s sister?”

“No, and thank you for that black eye,” Chad grumbles. “Look, roommates are supposed to look out for one another. I know you think I’m just being an ass about Ackles but I like you, man. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Jared snorts. “Are you saying you care? Aww, Chad. That’s so sweet.”

“Shut up, asshole. I just...” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “Got a cousin that came back from Iraq a couple of years ago. It fucked him up, that PTSD thing. His wife found him in the living room a year later, hanging from the ceiling. Now _she’s_ all fucked up.”

“Oh.” Jared blinks. He feels like a complete jerk. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

Chad shrugs. “Whatever. She married a normal person and got screwed over. You _know_ he’s crazy. You can still walk away, man.”

Jared bites his lip. “No,” he says quietly, “I can’t. It’s too late for that.”

“Why?” Chad asks, clearly exasperated.

“Because I’m already in love with him.”

\--------------

There are days when Jensen is sure the whole world is out to get him. This is one of those days.

It starts to rain when he’s halfway to work, and even if he runs the last block so fast his lungs feel like they might explode, he still ends up soaking wet and spends the next half hour hyperventilating in the bathroom while Sophia pats him with a towel and blow-dries his hair. Then some asshole comes in with a toy gun and waves it around until Chris grabs him by the front of his stupid cowboy vest and throws him out. By the time Jensen has finally gotten his breath back, a girl covered in blood pulls him in for a drunken kiss, and he freaks the fuck out. She ends up on her butt on the floor, screaming insults at him that he can’t hear, because he’s backed up in a corner, covering his ears and doing some high-pitched screaming of his own.

Jensen fucking hates Halloween.

“Just go home, honey,” Sophia says when they’ve finally managed to calm him down. “It’s okay, we can handle this.”

Jensen looks out the window and shakes his head. He can’t. It’s still raining.

Sophia sighs. “Want me to call Jared? I’ll call Jared,” she says, determined, and stands up from where she’d been crouching on the floor before Jensen can stop her. He waves his hand to try and get Sophia’s attention, but she purposely turns her back on him, and then it’s too late, she’s already talking. Fuck.

He hasn’t had a freak out in front of Jared since they started going out. He fucking _hates_ the idea of Jared seeing him like this.

Jensen presses his forehead to his knees and closes his eyes. Inside his head, he’s shrinking.

\--------------

Jared loved Halloween growing up, even more when he became a teenager. It was the one day a year he could wear a mask, a solid one, without having to worry that people might see the real one underneath. He loved that freedom, he loved the cheap thrill of scary B-movies, and he loved all the candy. If he’d been asked he would have said it was probably his favorite holiday, only beaten by Christmas, because that involved presents, and who doesn’t love presents?

This is the first time he’s noticed how fucking gory Halloween is. On his run over to The Black Bean he passes a drunken axe murderer; almost knocks down a guy with half his face melted off, and one eyeball dangling out of its socket; and gets the scare of a lifetime when a girl suddenly runs screaming up at him, her throat cut and bleeding everywhere. Jesus!

By the time he arrives his heart is pounding in his chest. There’s a good crowd, way busier than usual, and he has to bully his way through the door, eyes scanning the place for Jensen. Chris is working the counter, looking stressed and angry, but when he spots Jared towering over the crowd, his shoulders slump in obvious relief. Jared pushes through, not caring that he steps on a few toes on his way.

“Where is he?”

Chris motions behind the counter, juggling two coffees in his other hand. “What the hell took you so long?”

Jared’s got an insult ready on the tip of his tongue when he spots Jensen, and the words get stuck in his throat. “Fuck,” he breathes.

It’s like Jensen’s drawing has come to life: the little boy in the corner clutching his knees and hiding his face from the scary monsters. Jared would jump the damn counter if he had the room. Instead he has to elbow his way past the line of costumers waiting, earning himself quite a few curses and “Watch it, man! Wait your turn!”

“What happened?” he asks the second he rounds the corner.

“Halloween happened,” Chris says over his shoulder before yelling at a slutty nurse to keep her boobs in check, because “This ain’t Hooters, lady!”

“I need you to get him out of here,” he continues. “Now.”

“Why was he even here in the first place?” Jared asks angry as he crouches by Jensen’s side. Jensen is shaking, eyes squeezed shut, and fingers digging so hard into his knees his knuckles are ghostly white. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for him?”

“I’m not his mother, okay!” Chris snaps. “He showed up even though he had the day off. Probably got his dates crossed. He does that, mixes up stuff all the time. It doesn’t matter. Just get him out of here, before he wets himself.”

“A little too late for that,” Jared mutters and Chris looks over sharply.

“Shit. Some fucking idiot set off firecrackers earlier. Hate those goddamn things.” He sighs. “There are blankets in the back. You can wrap him up then take him home. Here, take my keys.”

Chris shoots out his hip, his own hands busy wrapping a sandwich. Jared fishes the keys out of Chris’s pocket then goes to the back room and finds a couple of fleece blankets, laid out on a small couch. They smell of beer and Jensen, and Jared wonders how many times they’ve had to pull an all-nighter, because Jensen wasn’t able to leave. Speaking of which...

“I’m calling a cab,” he tells Chris as he gets back. “It’s still raining cats and dogs out there.”

“Whatever, just do it! I don’t want to have to–”

A guy dressed as a zombie slams his palm down on the counter with a sharp bang, Jensen screams, and Chris punches the zombie right in the face.

It’s all chaos after that. The guy jumps to his feet, fists raised and nose bleeding, yelling that he’s gonna kick Chris’s ass, “You sonofabitch!” Jared quickly stands up, stretching to his full height, and dares him to, “Go ahead, shrimp. Make my day,” because he’s feeling so damn helpless he just wants to punch someone. They’re screaming, and yelling and threatening each other, but neither makes a move, because the guy is all mouth and no muscle, and Jared doesn’t want to step away from Jensen, who’s still screaming in terror. The crowd is chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Chris is growling, “Get him the hell out of here, kid! I can handle this myself!” and Sophia threatens to cut their balls off if they don’t, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

That does it. Everyone goes quiet except for Jensen, who has succumbed to a low keening wail, which, if anything, sounds even worse than the screaming. He’s rocking back and forth, totally lost in his own world. The guy, whose glare until now had been set on Chris and Jared, shifts his gaze to see where the sound is coming from and his eyes widen.

“Shit, is he okay?”

“No,” Jared growls, moving to shield Jensen from view. “You need to back the hell off!”

“Sure, sure. Sorry.” The guy quickly steps back, raising his hands in surrender. “Fuck, I didn’t know he was there. I swear, I didn’t mean to scare him.” He looks genuinely upset, and Jared slowly lowers his fists, feeling a little confused. “He needs to get out of here, man. It’s Halloween, it’s gonna get really loud.”

Jared blinks. “Uhm... yeah. That’s what I’m trying to do. Just need to call a cab. Rain freaks him out.”

“My car’s right outside. I’m not drunk!” the guy assures him when Jared starts shaking his head. “I’m just obnoxious, I swear. Let me give you a ride. Least I can do.”

He looks completely serious, and Jared gives in, because the chances of getting a cab at Halloween without waiting for at least half an hour, are not good.

“Jesus,” he mumbles and crouches by Jensen’s side. “Hey, Jensen. We’re going now. Think you can walk to the car?”

“I need to go home,” Jensen whispers. The voice is small and childishly bright. “I need to go home. Please let me go home. Please, please.” His face crumples, and he starts to cry. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home.”

Jared blinks. He looks helplessly up at Chris, but Chris has his back turned, his shoulders tense, and his hands curled into fists by his side. Sophia looks shaken. She wipes at her eyes with her fingertips and presses her lips together, clearly fighting not to cry.

“Can you please just get him out of here?” Chris says, his voice strangled. “Please?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jared puts the blanket around Jensen’s shoulders, wrapping it around him the best he can. “I’m taking you home now, okay? Come on.”

He gets to his feet, staggering slightly under the weight. Jensen doesn’t fight but he’s not helping either, his body a deadweight in Jared’s arms. The whole coffee shop is quiet as Jared makes his way out from behind the counter and to the door. A guy dressed as a vampire holds it open for him, and a rather scantily-clad Red Riding Hood runs over with an umbrella, holding it over them as they make their way to the car parked only a few feet away.

“Thank you,” he tells her, a little choked up, but she just smiles and folds the umbrella before handing it to him.

“Here, keep it,” she says, her make-up already running. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

Jared just nods. He’s not used to people being so generous; it rather throws him. Zombie guy is already starting the car, and Jared slides into the back seat, arm around Jensen’s trembling form, before he gives the guy a quick awkward smile. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I was being an ass. Least I can do. Name’s Mike, by the way.”

Jared nods. “Jared,” he says, adding, “Just up the road and then to the right, second lights from here,” before leaning back in the seat and slowly breathing out. Jensen is curled up against him, and Jared takes his hand, squeezing it. He doesn’t get any response.

Mike eyes them, concerned, in the rearview mirror once he’s on the road. “I’ve been wondering about him. I’m a psychiatrist,” he explains when Jared looks at him sharply. “Or I will be if I ever graduate. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say he has PTSD. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Jared says hesitantly. He’s really not sure he should be having this conversation with a stranger.

Mike nods. “Thought so. Childhood trauma? I’m just guessing,” he adds at Jared’s suspicious look. “With the way he was talking, it reminded me of dissociative age regression. Powerful enough that it broke through his SM. Selective mutism,” he elaborates, when Jared just stares at him. "That's what he has, right?"

Jared has no idea. Apparently he has some more reading to do. “I’m not really comfortable talking about it, sorry,” he says. “Over there.” He points out Jensen’s building, and Mike double parks as close as he can before turning around in his seat, looking curiously at Jared. He gives Mike a polite smile back. “It’s not mine to tell,” he says.

“No, of course not. Sorry.” Mike gets out, holding the umbrella ready as Jared wrestles Jensen out of the car. Jensen is still shaking, but he’s gone quiet, and his eyes are blank, like he’s checked out for the time being.

“If you want some info give me a call,” the guy says once they’re inside the apartment, and Jensen is lying curled up on his bed. “Don’t need no personal details, we can just talk general stuff.” He scribbles his name and number on a piece of paper and hands it over. “Anytime. And sorry about earlier. I get a bit excited at Halloween.”

Jared gives him a tired smile. “No problem. Chris isn’t usually that aggressive. I think. The stress just really got to him. Stop by in a couple of days, and he’ll probably buy you coffee. Don’t expect an apology though.”

Mike laughs then glances over at Jensen. ”You think he’ll be okay?”

Jared’s smile drops. He looks over at Jensen, at the blank stare and his pale skin, almost bluish in the twilight. His shirt is covered in fake blood, and the jeans are wet and stink of urine.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I kinda doubt it.”

\--------------

Jensen has lost count of how many times he’s woken up in different clothes and smelling of soap. He fucking hates it, because it means he lost his cool – again! – and that Chris has been forced to take care of him. This time is no different. Except...

He’s wearing one of Chris’s old band t-shirts, with Kane written across it in typical country style letters, and the soap is the one his mother sent him for Christmas, and he never uses, because the scent reminds him of his dad. Jensen’s irritation rises. If this is Chris’s subtle way of telling him that from now on maybe he should clean up his own fucking mess then fine. Not like he ever asked Chris to be his goddamn nurse.

The apartment is dark, barring the streetlights shining in through the windows. He has no idea what time it is. His watch is missing from his wrist, and his phone is nowhere to be seen. Looks like Chris just cleaned him up and dumped him in bed before going to sleep himself. Well, that’s just great. Chris knows he has no sense of time and needs his goddamn watch or he’ll get up in the middle of the night, thinking it’s morning. Fucker.

Jensen sits up slowly. His head hurts the way it always does when he’s had one of his episodes. Must have been a bad one, because he can’t really remember anything after that girl tried to kiss him. She’d smelled of old cigarettes and fake blood, and when she’d thrust her tongue into his mouth it tasted of vodka and nicotine. He gags when he realizes he can still taste it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’s got bile already coming up his throat when he reaches the bathroom, and he spits it into the toilet before grabbing the mouthwash and taking a big gulp.

“Hey,” a rough voice says, and Jensen spits mouthwash all over the mirror. He turns around so fast he trips over the bathmat and is halfway to falling into the shower when a strong hand grabs his arm and pulls him up.

“Shit. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Jared says, looking startled himself. He’s rumpled with sleep, hair sticking out in all directions, and a pattern Jensen recognizes from their couch pillows pressed into his cheek. “Just wanted to ask how you were feeling.”

Jensen stares at him. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he wants to ask. ‘Where’s Chris? What happened? What the fucking _fuck_ are you doing here!?!’

And then he remembers. Sophia called Jared. Sophia called Jared to ask him to take Jensen home. Which means...

His mortification must show, because Jared lets go of his arm and steps back, watching him with worried eyes. Jensen sinks down to the floor, hiding his face in his hands. He feels humiliated. So goddamn degraded. Fuck. Fuck!

“Hey, it’s okay. Jensen, come on.” Jared is tugging gently at his hands, prying them away from his face. “Don’t. Please.”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. “Go.”

“No. I’m not going. Dude, it’s no big deal. I didn’t mind.”

“Go! Get out! Get. Out!”

“No,” Jared says firmly. “You’re being ridiculous. So I cleaned you up, who cares?”

“Me!” He pushes away Jared’s hands and staggers to his feet. He can’t look at him. Jesus. “I care! I fucking care! You’re not supposed to see... to see me. Not like that. Not... Fuck!”

Jared steps back as Jensen pushes past him and out of the bathroom, quickly following on his heels.

“Dude, I’m not a perv, I didn’t even look.” Jensen throws him a glare, and Jared’s cheeks turn deep red. “Okay, so I looked. A little. Hard not to when it’s right there. But I didn’t...I didn’t fondle you or anything. I just stripped you naked and gave you a sponge bath.”

Jensen drops down on the bed, again hiding his face in his hands. “God, shut up!”

“But...”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jared! Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?”

Jared snorts. “That’s rich. Only reason I talk so much is because you never say anything!”

Jensen glares up at him. “Fuck you! I can’t! I have all these words, and I can’t get them out, okay? That’s why I don’t talk. Because I can’t...” He stops, mouth open. He feels a little dizzy.

Jared’s grin is a mile wide. “Except you just did,” he says, looking smug as hell.

“I...” Jensen swallows and tries again, but this time he doesn’t even get that far. His tongue feels like it’s swelling in his mouth, and all the words he’s trying to say squeeze his larynx, like a fist around his throat. He chokes, hand clutching at his throat, and tears spring to his eyes.

Jared’s grin drops like a stone. “Hey, you all right?” he says as he sits down by Jensen’s side. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”

Jensen shakes his head. The harder he tries the worse he gets. Fuck. Fucking stupid words! He pushes Jared away and gets to his feet. He grabs a sketchbook and a pencil off the table and starts drawing furiously. Jared, tall and strong and confident. And then himself, small and naked and shameful.

“What? No!” Jared says when Jensen angrily shoves the book at him. He looks shaken. “It’s not like that. Haven’t you been listening to me? I’m not like that. That?” he says, pointing at the small naked figure. “That is me. That is me, okay? That is how I feel every day.”

Jensen snorts and rolls his eyes. ‘Are you stupid?’ he wants to say. ‘You have everything! You _are_ everything I wish _I_ could be.’

“Don’t fucking do that!” Jared yells, startling him. He’s gone pale, with red dots in his cheeks, and his hands shake as he rips the drawing out of the book and into little pieces. “Your life may be shitty, but that doesn’t mean you can just fuck over other people’s feelings like they don’t matter.”

Jensen stares at him. ‘You’re serious,’ he thinks. ‘How can you be serious? How can you not see how good your life is? So you’re gay, so what? Tenth of the fucking population is gay. Your parents disapprove? Boohoo. Get over it. I would kill to have your life, you lucky bastard.’

His thoughts must show, because Jared’s eyes blaze and he steps back, shaking his head in anger. “You know, Chris is right. You _are_ a fucking jerk. You’re so goddamn selfish, you know that? You’re so focused on your own problems, you don’t even see what you’re doing to the people around you. You treat Chris like shit, and for some reason he just lets you. Well, I’m not gonna do that. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me like I don’t fucking matter!”

He grabs his jacket and storms out, slamming the door behind him so hard the whole building shakes.

Jensen stands rooted to the spot, the ripped up drawing at his feet. His chest hurts. Like really fucking hurts. He grunts, staggering back until he hits the couch and drops down, landing on the edge and sliding down on the floor. Fuck. Is he having a heart attack? Is that what this is? Because it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his fucking chest. And all because Jared walked out on him. Just fucking left him. Left him. He left him. Jared left him.

Jensen hitches his breath. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tears start dripping off his nose.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Spring 2001 _

_He’s strolling through the city library, waiting for his mother to finish checking out the books she wants him to read to ‘build his character and regain his self-esteem’. That’s when he sees the magazine. It lies abandoned on a table, his own terrified face staring out at him from the front cover. He freezes in his steps, his heart beating so fast in his chest it hurts. Without thinking he grabs the magazine and stuffs it under his jacket. Once home he runs up to his room to read._

_Jensen knows he was kidnapped by a bad man and then rescued by the police. That much he’s been able to figure out from the memory flashes he has from that day and what little his parents will talk about in his presence. The bad man had been shot and, even if Jensen can’t remember it happening or find any scar on his body to prove it, he must have been shot as well, because he was stuck in the hospital for so long and everyone treated him like he had cancer or something._

_No one ever talks to him about it though and the few times he’s tried asking by pointing a finger gun towards himself his mother freaks out and he has to spend at least two hours in an emergency meeting with his therapist. By now he’s stopped asking but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know._

_Maybe now he'll finally get some answers._

_He turns the pages of the magazine quickly until he finally finds the right article. The words instantly jump out at him, stabbing his gut like a knife._ ‘...missing three weeks... known sex offender... suspected abuse... former victims... pedophile...’ __

_He’s only twelve but he knows stuff, he hears things. He listens to people talk when they forget he’s there. When they think he’s deaf or brain damaged or just plain stupid. He knows what these words mean. What they mean in regards to_ him _._

_His hands shake as he rips the magazine apart, faster and faster until there are shreds of glossy paper flying all over the room like buzzing blowflies. But he can’t rip the image of himself, bloody and screaming, from his mind. He can’t erase the words from his brain, the fear and disgust and desperation from his heart._

_That night his mother finds him lying on the bathroom floor, choking on half a bottle of Valium._

\------------

Present day

“Okay, shoot. What do you need?”

Jared sucks in his breath. He feels ridiculous all of a sudden. One argument and he’s freaking out. So stupid. He shouldn’t be here, blabbering Jensen’s business to a complete stranger. That’s not how it’s done. Jensen would kill him if he knew. No, scratch that. _Chris_ would kill him. Jensen would most likely paint a picture of him being tortured in Hell.

Mike is watching him with sympathetic eyes. “Jared,” he says. His voice is soft and soothing, and Jared can’t help thinking he’ll make a pretty good shrink some day. “I know I’m not practicing yet but I promise, whatever you tell me, I’ll keep to myself. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Or just friend-to-friend confidentiality, doesn’t matter. You can trust me.”

Jared swallows. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he admits. “I’m fucking it up. I’m fucking everything up. I don’t know... Dammit.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I told him he was a selfish jerk, who didn’t care about anyone. The guy was freaking out, and I ran out on him because... Because he hurt my feelings. Jesus. I’m not a kid. I should be able to handle a few... looks. ‘Cause it’s not as if he even _said_ anything. Just... Fuck, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mike tells him gently. “Just because he’s having a hard time doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid.”

“That’s what I said!” Jared groans. “And then I ran out and slammed the– Shit!” He jumps to his feet, reaching for his jacket. “Chris is gonna kill me.”

“Jared, sit down.” The voice is firm, commanding, and Jared drops back down on the couch without thinking. “Whatever that means that you slammed the door? It was last night. Chances are Jensen or Chris have already dealt with it by now.”

“He’s afraid of loud noises,” Jared says in a small voice. He feels like crying. “He hates loud noises and I, I just...”

“You got upset and made a small mistake. It’s okay.”

Jared shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I thought I was helping him. He said I did. That I helped him get the words out. I thought I was so special. That maybe I could make him better. Like some goddamn magic healer or something. And then at the first sign of trouble I walk away from him. Some boyfriend I am.”

“You’re involved?” Mike asks, clearly surprised.

Jared nods. “We were anyway. Not sure he’ll ever want to see me again after this.”

Mike studies him silently. “Can you tell me a bit more?” he finally says. “I’m just trying to get some idea of what we’re talking about here. You don’t have to share anything you think he’d want to keep private.”

“What little I know I got from Google,” Jared admits. He laughs, embarrassed. “God, that sounds so freaky. I learned my boyfriend’s secrets through Google. Shit.”

Mike smiles a little. “Okay. I assume that’s public record then. How about you show me that, and we go from there? You comfortable with that?”

Jared nods, discreetly wiping his eyes with his fingers. He waits while Mike starts up his laptop then types the search words into the Google search bar. As soon as the results pop up he moves away. “I can’t read that stuff again. Mind if I get some water?”

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Mike says absently, eyes on the screen. “Knock yourself out.”

It’s not even noon yet but Jared accepts the offer gratefully. He doesn’t think he can be sober for this. The next hour he finishes off two beers and a jar of pickles he finds in the fridge. Not the best breakfast he’s had but not the worst either. Every now and then he looks over at Mike who’s still clicking through articles, then looks away again, feeling awkward and guilty. Public record or not, it doesn’t mean Jensen would like it broadcasted.

Finally Mike closes the laptop with a quiet click and raises his head to meet Jared’s eyes. “Shit,” he says, and Jared can’t help it; he starts laughing.

“Is that your expert opinion?” he asks when he finally gets his breath back. “‘Shit’?”

Mike cracks a small smile. “With a side order of Holy Fuck. Yeah, I think that about covers it.” His face turn serious again. “That picture... Really disturbing.”

Jared nods. He feels sick just thinking about it. “The guy’s brain went splat in Jensen’s face. In his _mouth_. That’s just...” He shudders. “Chris thinks that’s why Jensen doesn’t like talking, because he has to open his mouth. I don’t know. He seems pretty okay eating and, you know, kissing. And stuff.”

Mike frowns. “He doesn’t talk at all? Not even at home?”

“Just a few words but mostly, no. He told me he can’t get the words out.”

Mike raises his eyebrows in surprise. “He _told_ you?”

“Last night. He got upset when he realized I’d been the one to take him home, and suddenly he was just talking. Like, whole sentences flowing out, easy as pie. Until he realized what he was doing. Then it was like he closed up even tighter. He was fighting to say more, and he just... couldn’t. It looked like he was choking.”

Mike nods. “Yeah. That can happen with mutism. The throat closes up. It can be painful, especially if he’s really fighting it. I think it’s pretty interesting though that he forgot he couldn’t talk, even if it was just for a few minutes. Especially if he doesn’t even talk at home. Which I’d say rules out selective mutism. Could be a conversion disorder, I’ll have to read up on that.” He frowns. “So he’s got post traumatic stress disorder with severe mutism and... Anything else?”

Jared shrugs. “Amnesia? Chris says he can’t remember what happened those three weeks. He remembers the rescue but nothing before that.” Jared hesitates. “Jensen drew me a picture of what he thinks happened. It was... pretty fucking horrible.”

“He thinks he was abused?”

Jared swallows. “Raped. He thinks he was raped.” He rubs a hand over his face. “God, what if it’s true? What if that sick fuck... Shit. He was ten years old, man. Not that it’s ever... But a ten year old kid? What kind of sick fuck does that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mike murmurs absently. “Anything confirm that theory?”

“The fact that the guy was a convicted sex offender? And that...” Jared stops. His cheeks heat up.

“What?”

He squirms. “Okay, so... First time I met Jensen? He jumped me in the dark and gave me a blowjob. Just like that. Then he ran off, before I even got his name. I didn’t even see his face. I mean, that’s not normal, right?”

Mike bites his lips, thoughtful. “Promiscuity sometimes happens with PTSD, so it doesn’t necessarily have to mean sexual abuse although that does heighten the risk. You think he’s done it before?”

Jared nods. “Chris was pretty mad about it, but he didn’t seem surprised.”

“You think he’s still doing that? Jumping random guys?”

Jared blinks. He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, now I do! Shit.”

“Sorry.” Mike pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is way beyond my expertise, man. I don’t really know what to tell you. I’d say he needs to be in therapy, but maybe he already is.”

“What’s therapy gonna do for a guy that doesn’t talk?” Jared asks, exasperated.

“He can still be talked _to_. And he seems to be pretty good at expressing himself through art from what you’re telling me. He doesn’t write down what he wants to say?”

Jared shakes his head. “I think it’s not just vocal blockage, more like mental. Like I asked him if he’d thought of using sign language and he got mad. ‘Same thing, different language,’ according to him.”

“Again, he _said_ that? So he does talk, occasionally?”

“Yeah. But only a few words.”

“Interesting.” Mike purses his lips in thought.

“I can tell you’re gonna be a great therapist,” Jared mutters. “You’ve got the evasive mannerism down to a T.”

Mike smiles. “Sorry. I read up on mutism last year after Jensen started working at The Bean. He intrigued me,” he admits with a shrug. “Like I said, most selective mutes still talk in what they consider safe settings, like at home, even if they can’t talk under more pressured circumstances, like at work or school. But it doesn’t sound like he can. Not easily anyway. Which makes me think it might be a conversion disorder. That’s when psychological issues manifests themselves as physical,” he explains. “Like people feel pain although physically there’s nothing wrong with them. Or they lose their sight or their motor skills in certain parts of their body. They can even become fully paralyzed. Conversion mutism is, however, very, very rare. Hardly any studies have been done on it, and the few recent ones I encountered involved cases where the person regained their voice within months or even days. He’s been like this for twelve years. That’s... really extreme. I mean, he got help, right?”

Jared nods. “Yeah. Was in therapy for years. Chris said he’s done the whole package, but nothing’s worked so far.” He frowns. “You were talking about safe settings? Jensen can talk to kids. Not much, but still.” He explains the whole art program, and how it seems to relax Jensen, being around what he seems to consider harmless beings.

“That is really interesting. And very promising. If he manages to talk around children, even if it’s just a few words, chances are with time it will get easier, both to get more words out and to transfer that to talking to adults. He already talks to you, right?”

Jared nods. “He’s said a few words to me. Again not much and sometimes he really has to fight to get them out, but at least it’s something.”

Mike gives him a small smile. “I’ve been going to The Black Bean since long before he started working there, and I’ve never heard him say a single word. Granted I’ve never gone to any of their kid art things, seeing as I neither have one nor am one. But if he can talk to you, if only a little, it seems he was telling the truth. You do help him get the words out. I’m sure that means a lot to him.”

Jared feels a little better, until he remembers Jensen will probably never talk to him again, and his face falls. “You know, I don’t really mind the silence but... I just don’t know how to deal with all his anger. He can be a real jerk, you know. Like, a total asshole. I thought I could handle it, but turns out that’s only as long as he’s being a jerk to someone else, not me. Honestly I don’t know how Chris does it. I’d have strangled the guy years ago.”

“Well, maybe you couldn’t handle it, because what he said struck a nerve,” Mike suggests. “What exactly did he say?”

“He didn’t really _say_ anything,” Jared admits. He’s starting to feel all stupid again. “So okay, he felt humiliated that I had to take care of him. Like it gave me power over him or some shit like that. And I told him that was ridiculous, because I felt just as vulnerable as he was picturing himself. And he pretty much laughed at me. Apparently my issues are stupid, and I have no right to feel bad, because his problems are so much bigger. Which yeah, they are, but that doesn’t mean my problems don’t feel big to me.”

“And he told you this... how?” Mike asks confused.

Jared blushes. “He has a very expressive face when he wants it to be. It was pretty clear what he was thinking. I poured my heart out and he just... didn’t care.”

“I can see why that would hurt.” Mike studies him thoughtfully. “What are your issues exactly?”

Jared looks away. His face feels hot. “My parents hate me. Well, not me exactly. Although they will when they find out I’m... that I’m gay.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans, unable to meet Mike’s eyes. “My parents hate gay people. Like really, really hate them. They’re like these nutjobs that show up at funerals with signs saying all gay people are going to hell. That’s what I had to grow up with. And when I realized I was... that I was one of them... I had to live with that for six years before I could finally get away. Six years of listening to them preach how being gay is the worst sin you could commit toward God. Worse than murder.”

“That is horrible,” Mike says quietly. “I’m sorry. No one should have to endure that.”

“And the stupid thing is now I’m here with people who know what I am and accept me, and... all I want is my mom. I just want my mama to... I just want her to tell me it’s okay to be... I just want her to tell me it’s okay.”

He cries, his shoulders shaking, and his chest hurting, face hidden in his hands. It’s the first time he’s admitted to himself that he’s actually not okay. That he misses them so damn much. That he’s scared, because he’s still just a kid, no matter what he tries to tell himself, and he feels so goddamn alone.

“Jared.”

Jared shakes his head.

“Hey, listen to me. You are right. That is big. Not just to you but to anyone. That would be pretty damn big to anyone.”

Jared wipes his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “Jensen doesn’t think so.”

Mike snorts. “Jensen probably thinks the holocaust wasn’t that bad, and I say that as a Jewish person who actually likes the guy.” He sighs when Jared looks at him, startled. “Okay, this is what I think. And bear in mind I’m not actually qualified – yet – and I’ve never talked to him. So I’m basing all of this on what you’ve been telling me, and on what I’ve noticed, watching him. Okay?”

Jared nods.

“Okay.” Mike takes a deep breath, eyes on Jared. “So here goes: I think Jensen might be so wrapped up in what happened to him, he’s having trouble sympathizing with you or anyone else. Nothing feels as big as what he went through himself, so other people’s problems seem trivial to him. Even faced with another rape victim – if that is indeed what happened to him – I think he’d be confident that his experience was worse. It’s not his fault, not really. He did go through something really horrible, and it pretty much ruined his life. And he’s never been able to work through it, probably because he hasn’t been able to talk about it. Instead he keeps it all locked up inside his head, both what he remembers, and everything he can’t remember but imagines happened. Which probably does a lot more damage than if he actually _did_ remember. Since he doesn’t know what it is he needs to deal with, he can’t deal with it. So he’s stuck.”

Jared frowns. “When you say he has trouble sympathizing, do you mean he can’t feel that kind of emotions? Like compassion and... and...” Fuck. He can’t even say it.

“Love?” Mike suggests gently.

Jared nods, his cheeks burning.

“You say he’s a jerk to his friends? Might be because he doesn’t even realize he’s hurting them. Or if he does he can’t find it in him to care.”

Jared’s heart sinks. “So that’s a no then?”

“Not necessarily. You’ve been going out for a while, right?” Jared nods. “Well, do you think he cares about you?”

Jared thinks back on green eyes gazing up at him with concern. Remembers Jensen’s palm, resting over his heart. Jensen kissing him when he got upset and then keeping close, as if to protect him. That shy crooked smile that lights up every time Jared shows up. Jensen’s warm hand slipping into his and holding on tight, like letting go means losing each other.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I really think he does.”

Mike smiles. “Then I wouldn’t give up on him just yet. Maybe you are helping him getting more than just the words out.”

\--------------

Jensen jerks awake to the sound of the vacuum cleaner. He lies staring out the window for a long time before rolling over. Chris is vacuuming the floor. There are bags of trash stacked up against the door, waiting to be taken out. Oh. Fuck.

Chris glances over when he notices Jensen getting up but instantly turns away again, focusing on his task as if Jensen isn’t standing there, trying to get his attention. ‘I’m sorry,’ he wants to say, and, ‘You should have woken me up. I can clean my own fucking mess.’ Chris keeps his eyes on the floor, and Jensen gives up. He goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, pees, shaves, and then brushes his teeth again, all the time avoiding his reflection in the mirror. When he comes back out, Chris is sitting by the kitchen table, drinking coffee. He looks tired but not as pissed off as Jensen thought he’d be, considering the place was pretty much trashed.

He pours himself a cup before sitting down opposite, waiting for Chris to say something. Seconds tick by. Minutes. Then finally, “What happened?”

Jensen swallows. He drops his gaze, watching the steam float up from his coffee. He draws an invisible J on the table with his index finger.

“Jared?” Chris asks quietly. “Something happened with Jared?”

Jensen rubs over the same place with his thumb, wiping the letter out.

“You broke up?”

He nods.

“Shit. Why?”

Isn’t that the million dollar question? Jensen looks up, biting at his upper lip. He opens his mouth then closes it again. His throat hurts. His vision is a little blurry, so he blinks, trying to clear it. Chris’s eyes widen.

“You’re crying,” he says, sounding shocked. “Hey, what...? Jensen, you... you’re _crying_.”

Jensen wipes at his eyes with his fingers. They come away wet. That’s the second time now. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Oh hey, come on. It can’t be that bad.” Chris reaches over and puts his hand over Jensen’s, squeezing it. “Let me guess, you were a jerk and hurt his feelings, so he told you to go to hell. Something like that.” He shrugs when Jensen stares at him. “Dude, I know you. It was only a matter of time before you got to him. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. He must have thicker skin than I thought.”

Jensen swallows. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s a dick, even if he doesn’t usually notice until it’s too late. But he hadn’t realized he was that bad. Fuck.

“I’m guessing you said something mean. About... him? His feelings?” Jensen looks away. “He told you something important, and you blew it off?” Jensen shrugs, and Chris sighs. “Okay, I need you to actually tell me, Jensen. I can’t read your mind, and I really want to help you fix this.”

Jensen closes his eyes. He breathes slowly. In, out. In, out. Then picks up the ever present paper and pencil and shakily draws a picture of Jared as a small boy, hugging himself as he looks out over a vast ocean.

Chris looks thoughtful. “He told you he feels lost, alone... small?”

Jensen nods. He swallows. “I laughed,” he chokes out.

Chris sucks in his breath. “Okay. That’s not good. Do you know _why_ he feels small?”

Jensen draws a quick picture of a couple, both with crosses in their raised fists. They look mean, angry, hateful. Behind them is a torch-carrying mob; in front of them Jared is backing away. He’s crying.

“That’s what he’s running from?” Chris says, looking at Jensen for confirmation.

He nods.

“His parents don’t approve that he’s gay?”

Jensen hesitates, not sure how to explain. Finally he takes a deep breath, clears his throat. “They don’t know. They keep...” He coughs, annoyed, before pointing at his phone. Then points at the picture of Jared and shakes his head.

“They call but he doesn’t answer?”

Jensen nods. “He’s angry. But...” He points at the drawing of Jared by the ocean.

“He feels lonely.”

Jensen nods again. “He’s afraid they’re right, that being gay means he’s worthless.” He blinks. That’s probably the longest sentence he’s ever said. Huh.

“He told you that?”

Jensen opens his mouth but this time nothing comes out, and finally he just shakes his head. Chris gazes at him, looking like he’s about to burst with pride.

“You just know?” Chris asks. “You can tell? Like, you can feel that that’s how he’s feeling?”

Jensen nods, and Chris’s face breaks out in a smile. “That’s great! That’s the best news I’ve ever heard!”

Jensen blinks. What?

“Jensen, that’s empathy. It’s the first time you’ve ever shown empathy. Towards anyone. I mean, you’ve faked it, plenty of times. Even fooled me once or twice. But not this time. This time you actually felt it. That’s.... Oh man, that’s wonderful.” Chris laughs when Jensen just stares at him, totally confused. “That’s why you’re crying. Because you hurt his feelings, and him hurting hurts you. You’ve never felt like that before. About anyone.”

Oh. What does that mean?

“I think it means you love him,” Chris says, all happy. “Oh wow. That... That is amazing.”

Jensen stares at him. His vision goes blurry again, and he blinks, wiping at his wet face. Amazing? How can it be amazing, when it hurts so damn much?

“Jensen, this is good. This is... This is _wonderful_. No, look at me. It’s okay, we’ll fix it. I promise you, we’ll get him back.”

Jensen shakes his head. No. It’s too late. Jared is gone. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. Jensen’s shoulders start to shake. His head hurts, and his throat hurts, and his eyes prickle all hot and itchy. Fuck. Crying really _sucks_.

\---------

The Black Bean closes early on Sundays. Seven to be exact. Jared has this all figured out. He’ll pick up Jensen after work, they’ll hug it out, he’ll take Jensen to dinner, and a movie and then... something.

Okay, so he doesn’t really have it all figured out. Basically he just wants to take Jensen out on a proper date. So far all they’ve done is walk a lot and talk over coffee. It hasn’t really felt like they were dating, more like they were hanging out. But if he’s going to help Jensen find his own heart, he needs to step up the romance. For all he knows Jensen didn’t even realize they were dating. Maybe he just thought they were friends who sometimes kissed. That is actually rather worrying. Damn.

Jared hesitates outside the door, watching through the window as Jensen wipes off the tables and gathers leftover cups and dishes, taking them over to the counter. His face is void of expression, like a pretty plastic mask. Jared can’t even tell if he’s upset or just bored. Chris is at the register, shooting Jensen what looks like worried glances as he works. Chris looks over to the door just as Jared steps closer, and his face freezes for a moment before relaxing in an obvious display of relief. He gives Jared a huge smile and motions him to come inside.

Guess this is it.

The doorbell pings as he opens the door, and Jensen’s head snaps up, like his ears had been straining to hear that particular sound. His eyes widen when he sees Jared standing there with an uncertain smile on his face. “Jared,” he breathes, the word stumbling out as if he’s kept it on the tip of his tongue all day.

“Hey,” Jared says. “Can we talk? I mean...” He laughs, all awkward. “You know what I mean.”

Jensen bites his lip. He’s blinking his eyes rapidly, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath. He’s still holding the table rag in one hand, and a couple of coffee cups in the other. He shifts on his feet then grimaces, jaw clenching. Anger and annoyance spark in his eyes.

Jared’s heart sinks. “It’s okay,” he says and forces out a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. Just... take care of yourself.” He turns away, thinking he should say a proper goodbye, but he can’t really get the words out. If this is in any way close to how Jensen feels, there’s no wonder he’s so irritated all the time.

A loud crash has Jared almost jumping out of his skin. He turns around to find Jensen still standing in the same spot, but the cups lie broken at his feet along with the wet rag. There are tears running down Jensen’s face, and he wipes at them angrily with the back of his hand, eyes set on Jared. He opens his mouth and closes it again, his face contorted in a grimace.

“I’m trying!” he finally chokes out. “To apologize and you...” He waves his hand toward the door. “Again!”

Jared blinks. Oh. “I’m sorry. I thought you were trying to find the words to dump me.”

Jensen frowns. “You dumped _me_!” he says irritated.

Jared smiles. Jensen looks so annoyed. It’s adorable. “No. I didn’t. We just had an argument.”

“I was a jerk, and you... you left.” The tears start flowing again, and Jensen wipes at them angrily with the sleeve of his t-shirt, growling deep in his chest when they just keep on coming.

“Hey,” Jared says softly. He walks over, carefully treading around the broken shards until he’s close enough that he can lay his hands on Jensen’s shoulders. “Hey,” he repeats, letting his hands slide up until he’s rubbing his thumbs under Jensen’s ears and stroking his neck with his fingers. “Look at me.”

Jensen looks up. His eyes are rimmed red, and his nose is pink, and his face is wet and blotchy. Jared doesn’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful.

“You care,” Jared says, happy. “You really care about me.”

Jensen hitches his breath. The look on his face spells out ‘DUH!’ in big bold letters.

Jared grins. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and grabs Jared by the neck, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Jared laughs into his mouth. He feels happy, elevated. Like he’s got the whole world right here in his arms. He doesn’t even notice he’s clutching Jensen close to his chest until he feels him hugging back, arms tight around his waist.

\-----------

“So you really like me, huh? Well, I am awesome.”

Jensen flips Jared the finger, but he can’t keep from smiling. Jared laughs, arm around his shoulder. He’s big, and strong, and warm where he’s pressed against Jensen’s side, and every now and then he’ll lean over and kiss Jensen on the forehead, or temple, or mouth if Jensen is quick enough to turn his head up to meet him. It’s all Jensen can do not to start crying again. He’s like a fucking girl about to have her first period, his stupid emotions jumping all over the place. Jesus fucking Christ.

They had dinner at some Italian place Jared had apparently made reservations at before coming over. The food was delicious, the warmth of Jared’s leg pressing against his under the table was nice and comforting, and the loving gaze Jared kept sending him every time he looked up was enough to have Jensen’s heart speed up in his chest.

This is it, he thinks. He’s in a relationship. He never thought he’d get this far with anyone, but if he can do this then he can do the rest. He can be nice, and considerate and not a jerk. He can be the kind of person Jared needs. The kind of person Jared would love. Because he does care. And that’s what matters. All you need is love, right? He can do this. He can love someone. In fact he thinks Chris might be right, he already is in love with Jared. That must be what this is, this strange and scary feeling in his chest that has him smiling every time Jared smiles at him. That makes him tear up at the most stupid things and want to grab Jared’s hand and never let go, ever. Love. Yes. He needs to tell Jared about that, about being in love with him. Soon. Preferably before he does something stupid again.

“What do you want to do?” Jared asks. He’s rubbing his thumb over Jensen’s collarbone, and it’s really distracting. Jensen ducks his head and gives Jared’s thumb a light bite before looking up with smirk. Jared laughs. “That won’t get us arrested,” he clarifies.

Jensen sighs. That doesn’t sound as fun. Not that he’ll ever admit it to Jared or even himself, but he kinda misses the blowjobs. He thinks he’s pretty good at giving head. He doesn’t really want to think about _why_ he’s so good at giving head. It’s stupid anyway. It was twelve years ago, whatever skills he might have been taught he would have lost them by now. Most likely he’s good because he’s been ‘blowing guys all over campus’, as Chris so eloquently put it. Not something he’s really proud of, but it doesn’t exactly bother him either. It’s happened that he’s run into some of them again, accidentally or they’ve come to the coffee house, like Jared did, but he always pretends he doesn’t recognize them, and even if they send him an awkward glance or two, so far no one besides Jared has ever called him out on it. Not that he would care. If they’d call him a cocksucker it’s only because they got their cock sucked.

It doesn’t matter. That part of his life is over now. And the tests came back negative, so he’s fine in that department. “Damn lucky,” Chris had grumbled, looking close to tears with relief. Jensen had just shrugged, feigning indifference, but he’d felt lighter in his chest, and when Jared came by the next day Jensen had pushed him up against the door and kissed him, until they both felt dizzy and had to sit down.

He shifts slightly, the thought enough to make his dick twitch. He’s getting damn tired of ‘taking things slow’. It’s been weeks, and apart from that one time at Jared’s dorm all they’ve ever done is kiss. Every time he moves to try and get things rolling, Jared backs away with an awkward smile and some stupid excuse. It’s fucking annoying. He gets that Jared is young and inexperienced but come on! Not like he doesn’t jerk himself off. What’s the big deal letting someone else do it?

“What’s got you all pissy?” Jared asks, pulling him out of his thought. He sounds amused rather than worried, and Jensen scowls at him. Jared snorts. “You’re cute as hell when you’re annoyed about something, you know that?”

Jensen elbows him, but Jared just laughs, and Jensen can’t keep from smiling either, despite his best efforts. He likes seeing Jared happy. He stands taller, looks more confident, like being happy fills him up and makes his chest broader and his body stronger. It’s one hell of a turn-on, frankly, having such a big strong boyfriend, ready to catch him if he should fall.

Now there’s a thought…

Jensen looks up at Jared, his smile turning sly.

Jared grins back. “What?” he asks. “What is that look? Should I be worried?”

Jensen shrugs, faking innocence. Then he stumbles, tripping over a non-existent crack in the sidewalk, and just like that he’s in Jared’s arms, pressed tight up against him.

“You okay?” Jared laughs. “I thought you were gonna... Oh. Oh! Jensen, we can’t...”

Jensen sticks his tongue deeper down Jared’s throat, shutting him up. It’s dark, there’s no one around, and the bushes of the driveway he pulled Jared into offer some shelter. It’s all they need for this. Jared’s dick is heavy in his hand, thick, and long and warm. Jensen is itching to drop to his knees but Jared seems ready to jump out of his skin, he’s so nervous, so this will have to do. His movements are quick and sure, and he keeps his mouth on Jared’s, swallowing the moans, and groans, and small hitches of breath Jared isn’t able to hold back.

‘Like that,’ Jensen wants to say. ‘You like it. You fucking love it. Now imagine what else we can do. Come on. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.’

Jared spills over his hand, his whole body shaking, and his fingers digging painfully into Jensen’s hip. “Oh God,” he says once he gets his breath back. “Jesus, Jensen, you... Give a guy a warning next time, okay?”

Jensen frowns. They’re boyfriends for fuck’s sake. What more warning does he need? He turns away, slipping into the yard to wipe his hand on the grass, and when he comes back Jared has tucked himself in and done up his pants and is standing there all awkward and unsure.

“Jen,” he says, reaching out and tugging Jensen closer. “Hey.” He nuzzles into Jensen’s neck and kisses him on the ear. “You don’t need to do that, okay?”

Jensen goes still. What?

“I’m okay with this. Just being with you. We don’t need to rush anything. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Jensen pulls back, staring at Jared in disbelief. _Rush?_ Rush _what_? They never do _anything_! What the fuck is he talking about?

Jared gazes back at him, all sympathetic eyes and worry, and suddenly Jensen gets it. Oh no. _Hell_ no. He grabs Jared’s hand and presses it to his dick, all hard and wanting, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Jared’s.

‘This feel like a scared little boy to you, Jared?’ he tries to say. ‘This feel like I’m doing this out of fear of losing you, or because, hell, my brainwashed kiddie training kicked in?’

Jared stares back at him, startled, and tries to pull away but Jensen won’t let him.

‘I want this, you moron. I’ve been taking things slow for you, not me. I’m fucking dying of blue balls here, okay?’

“Jensen...” Jared sighs sadly and goddammit, that’s _it_.

Jensen growls in frustration, undoes his jeans and pulls out his dick. His gaze never strays away from Jared as he jerks himself off, fast and hard, only closing his eyes for a second when he comes. When he opens them again Jared is staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide. Jensen reaches out and wipes his hand angrily on Jared’s t-shirt, before tucking himself in. Then he straightens up, eyes fixed on Jared, breath still heaving. There, this is how it’s done.

“Fuck,” Jared says, his voice a little strangled. “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?” He stops, seeming to remember their surroundings. “Uhm, unfortunate choice of words. Jensen, I... I don’t know what you want. I’m trying to understand, but it’s fucking confusing, okay?”

Jensen rolls his eyes. This is getting ridiculous. “I want _you_ ,” he grits out.

Jared’s eyes soften. “You’ve got me,” he says. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“No. I _want_ you.” He grabs Jared by the shirt and pulls him in. “Want you.” He kisses him, hard, deep. “Want you.” Slips his hand down the back of Jared’s pants, cupping his ass. “Want.”

“Oh.” Jared hitches his breath. “You sure? I don’t want you to be...”

Jensen growls and bites his ear.

“Okay, okay. Fuck, yes. I want you, too, okay? Jesus.” Jared laughs, a little out of breath. “Just... not here. We need to... God, Jen, I’m...” He yelps. “Stop. Jensen... Not here!”

Jensen lets out a frustrated sigh and steps back. Of course he knows they can’t do _that_ here but they can still make out, right? Jared is young, he should be able to get it up again soon enough. Now that Jared’s finally getting with the program Jensen just wants to grab him before he changes his mind again.

“I want to do this right, okay?” Jared says. “Not because... I want this to be more than just a fuck in an alley. I’m damn nervous. I’ve never done this before.”

Jensen smiles patiently, or at least he tries to, although he thinks it might look more irritated. It’s not like he’s asking Jared to give up his cherry, even if that would be pretty amazing. He just wants to get Jared naked, so he can lick him all over. And what about a little payback? So far he’s gotten Jared off three times while getting nothing in return. How’s that fair?

“Okay, you’re doing that thing again where you stare at me, and your nose gets all scrunched up, and I have no idea what the hell you’re thinking, but I know it ain’t good,” Jared says, looking flustered. “What is it?”

Jensen opens his mouth but his words are stuck again. Fuck. He purses his lips then gives Jared a tight smile. He makes a rude gesture with his hands and raises his eyebrows then shakes his head. Jared frowns.

“We’re not having sex?” he asks confused.

Jensen shrugs, wrinkling his nose to show he doesn’t care. He looks down at Jared’s crotch then up at his mouth, tilts his head a little and shoves his tongue into the pocket of his cheek.

Jared blinks. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You want to blow me?” he asks, cheeks flushing red.

Jensen smirks and just watches him, waiting. Jared frowns. He licks his lips, and Jensen can’t help following the motion with his eyes, teeth biting at his lower lip.

“Oh,” Jared suddenly exclaims, eyes widening. “Oh! Oh damn, I haven’t...” He groans. “Why didn’t you say something? I mean... Fuck.” He lays his hand on Jensen’s neck, pulling him in to rest their foreheads together. “I’m a selfish asshole, aren’t I?”

Jensen chuckles. That’s more his department. But yeah, it would be nice to get a little something in return. After all they are boyfriends. This is what you do in a relationship, right? He looks into Jared’s eyes, searching for any hint of fear, in case that’s what’s really holding him back, but Jared just looks embarrassed and possibly turned on. Still... Jensen raises his eyebrow and puts on his best concerned look. For once Jared seems to get it right away, because he shakes his head, smiling.

“I’m totally cool. More than cool. I was just... I wanted you to hold the ropes, call the shots. I mean, I don’t really know what you’re comfortable with, considering...” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t wanna trigger you.”

Jensen purses his lips. Of course he’s aware of that possibility. Until now it’s always been his decision, him going after what he wants. He’s not sure what Jared taking what _he_ wants will do. He points at himself and fakes being scared then points at Jared and gestures time-out. It’s not a question.

Jared gazes at him, the streetlight glittering in his eyes. He pulls Jensen in and holds him, loose and gentle but still all there, like a pillar of safety. “I will,” he chokes out. “I promise. And you have to promise to let me know if, if I do something wrong.”

Considering his usual response is freaking the fuck out, Jensen doesn’t really think he’ll have any way of hiding it, but he nods anyway and gives Jared a small smile after pulling back. The moment is pretty much gone by now though, so he just kisses Jared quickly and then tugs at his hand, pulling him out of the shadows.

“Are we...?” Jared asks confused, and Jensen shakes his head. Jared relaxes. He puts his arm around Jensen’s shoulders and kisses him on the ear as they fall easily in step. “Movie?” he asks. “You want to go out? Or we could watch something at your place,” he continues when Jensen hesitates. “Since my place has... Chad.”

Jensen nods. He’s not a big fan of movie theaters. They tend to get really loud, and the air is warm and stuffy, and everyone sits way too close. Even if he picks a seat right by the exit he still feels trapped. Plus, finding a movie that doesn’t have guns blazing, or other stuff that sets him off is a challenge. At least when he’s at home he can turn the sound off or just walk out if it becomes too much. Of course being at home means Chris will be there.

That’s another thing. Even if he and Jared did want to fuck, he doesn’t even know where they would go. It’s the first time he’s regretted the studio apartment and its complete lack of privacy. He’s no good with closed environments, with small rooms or locked doors, that’s why they chose it. He’s smart enough to know what that probably means, but it’s not something he likes to dwell on. He doesn’t really like to dwell on anything related to his obscure past. Not anymore.

His psychiatrist kept telling him he had to face his fears; that he had to reach beyond them. He’d glared at her, mouth set in a stubborn line. She didn’t know, none of them did. They didn’t understand. Face his fucking fears. Like he had some stupid arachnophobia or whatever. How the hell is he supposed to face his fears if he doesn’t even know what he’s afraid of?

As far as he’s concerned ignoring the obvious and pretending nothing is wrong works way better.

\---------

Chris is lounging on the couch watching _The Amazing Race_ when they arrive. He looks up as Jensen opens the door, his face relaxing when he sees Jared by his side. “Oh hey. You guys have a nice time?”

He sounds like a dad talking to his teenage daughter, and Jared can feel Jensen tensing. He quickly tightens his hold around Jensen’s shoulders and says, “Yeah. It was good.”

Chris’s gaze travels downwards, and his lips twist into a smirk. “I can see that,” he says.

Both Jared and Jensen look down at the same time, spotting the rather obvious smear across Jared’s shirt. Jared flushes warm all over with embarrassment, but Jensen just looks back at Chris with a smirk of his own.

“Free of charge,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and it’s Chris’s turn to be embarrassed.

“That wasn’t... I didn’t...” He looks up at Jared, flustered and clearly worried. “That was a misunderstanding, okay? I never thought... Not really. I mean... Shit.”

Jared blinks. “Okay. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chris breathes out in relief. “Good,” he says, smiling awkwardly. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we? Jensen? Buddy? Right?”

Jensen smirks. He walks over to the set of drawers and pulls out a blue t-shirt that he throws at Jared, then stands watching with a smug smile as Jared strips and changes, feeling self-conscious and stupidly turned on at the same time. The t-shirt is tight and too short, but it smells like Jensen, and it feels soft and warm against his chilled skin. Jensen’s smile turns positively sleazy as he runs an appreciative gaze over Jared’s body. Then he walks over to the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers, handing one to Jared before flopping down on the couch, giving Chris a pointed look. Chris pretends not to notice, but after a moment of intense staring he grumbles and moves over to the chair. Jared laughs awkwardly as he sits down in the vacated space on the couch, blushing when Jensen pulls him closer and lays a possessive hand high up on his thigh.

“Try and keep things PG-13, will ya?” Chris mutters. “This is not porn central.”

Jared cringes. He didn’t think he could get any redder, but it seems that yes, he can. Jensen just snorts, but when Jared looks over at him a while later he doesn’t look smug anymore, just relaxed and happy. Jared smiles and lays an arm over Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen leans in, snuggling closer, until he’s pretty much plastered to Jared’s side. Chris shifts in his chair, quickly looking away when Jared glances over but not quickly enough to hide the hopeful look in his eyes.

After a while Chris clears his throat and gets up. “Think I’ll go for a walk,” he says, all casual. “Grab a beer somewhere.”

Jensen watches Chris silently as he gets his jacket and puts on his boots, but as he reaches the door Jensen sucks in his breath and says, “Call Sophia.”

Chris looks over his shoulder, clearly surprised. “Yeah?” he says, sounding hesitant but hopeful.

Jensen nods and gives him a small smile that Chris returns with a grateful grin of his own. Then he’s gone, the door closed behind him, and the room filled with possibilities.

“How long has he been holding back because of you?” Jared asks carefully.

Jensen shrugs, wriggling his fingers indecisively, but he looks a little guilty.

“You’re a total tyrant, aren’t you?” Jared jokes, smiling to make sure Jensen knows he’s only half-serious. But Jensen just nods and doesn’t smile back. He’s staring at the TV screen but his eyes are unfocused and when Jared reaches for the remote and starts flipping through the channels, Jensen doesn’t even blink.

“What do you want to watch?” Jared asks to distract Jensen from whatever thoughts are making him so broody.

Jensen shrugs. He takes Jared’s hand, watching their fingers braid together in a perfect tangle of tan skin and pale freckles. He seems lost in thought, there’s a crease between his eyebrows that keeps getting deeper, and he’s biting at his lower lip, nibbling and tugging at the corner with his teeth until there’s a bruised swollen patch just begging to be soothed. So Jared leans over and kisses it.

Jensen blinks and looks up, his face breaking into a smile like he’d forgotten Jared was there. He kisses Jared back, soft at first then more heated, shifting in his seat to get better access. Jared lays one hand on Jensen’s hip, steadying him, but Jensen just keeps shifting and turning, until he’s straddling Jared on the couch, fingers tangled in his hair and ass pressing down on Jared’s half-hard dick. Jared sucks in his breath, kissing Jensen a little harder, his hands holding loosely on to Jensen’s hips, feeling the rough denim under his palms, and the smoothness of Jensen’s skin where his thumbs slip under the t-shirt.

“Wow,” he breathes when Jensen lets go of his mouth to kiss a path down his neck. “Didn’t know Phil Keoghan turned you on.”

Jensen laughs softly then growls and bites Jared’s neck, hard enough that he knows there will be a mark. Jared’s hips jerk, and he groans when the pressure on his dick doubles. Jensen breathes out against his neck, his hands moving down and under Jared’s shirt, roaming over his chest and stomach.

“Fuck. I wanna... Take your shirt off,” Jared groans. “Wanna see you. C’mon.”

Jensen pulls back and tugs his shirt over his head, throwing it aside, and Jared lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He’s not sure what he was expecting but Jensen’s skin is smooth and flawless, pale chest with brown nipples, and freckles that spread over his shoulders and down his arms. Jensen reaches for the hem of Jared’s t-shirt, pulling and fighting with the too tight material until it finally comes off. Then, without a warning, he latches on to Jared’s nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Jesus! Jensen... Oh God.” Jared’s head falls back. His hips keep jerking until they’re set in a rhythm, rubbing his dick against Jensen’s ass. If they keep on like this he’s gonna come in his pants. “Can we..? Bed. Please.”

Jensen pulls back, his eyes dark and heated. He’s panting slightly, his cheeks flushed and his lips wet and red from rubbing against the slight stubble on Jared’s throat. He slides off Jared’s lap and stands up, grabbing Jared’s hand and jerking him to his feet before pulling him across the room and to his bed. The windows are big and uncovered, offering a view for all the world to see but Jensen doesn’t seem to care the slightest as he pushes Jared down on the bed and starts working on getting his own jeans off.

“Wait.” Jared sits up and grabs Jensen’s hand. “Let me. I wanna... Can I?”

Jensen hesitates for a moment then breathes in deep and nods, hands falling to his sides. He looks oddly vulnerable standing there waiting, as if he doesn’t quite know how to handle being tended to instead of the other way around. Jared lays his hands on Jensen’s hips, thumbs stroking soothingly up and down his hipbones before pulling him closer and burying his nose in the soft down of Jensen’s treasure trail.

“You smell so good, you know that?” he murmurs. “So good. Like lemons and coffee and paint.” Jensen breathes out a laugh, his stomach shaking with it under Jared’s mouth. Jared moves his hands down front to undo the button of Jensen’s jeans, pausing to glance up at Jensen for any signs of distress. Jensen’s eyes are closed, tongue licking his lips, and when Jared pulls down the zipper Jensen breathes out a small whimper, like the anticipation is killing him.

“Smell even better here,” Jared continues, tugging Jensen’s jeans and boxer briefs down his hips and nuzzling into the nest of curls. “Fuck, I can smell your come from earlier. It’s on your skin, all musky and so damn hot.”

Jensen’s breath is coming in short shallow gasps now. His hands move up to rest on Jared’s head, twisting the strands of hair between his fingers until it almost hurts. Jared tugs the jeans and boxers down further and Jensen’s dick springs free, hard and long with a string of precome leading from the tip and down to his underwear. He’s even paler there, like creamed butter, the freckles picking up the trail at the top of his thighs and multiplying the further down his legs they reach.

“I want to taste you. Just... don’t laugh,” Jared says, licking his lips nervously. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He doesn’t wait for Jensen’s answer, chances are he won’t get one anyway, but circles Jensen’s cock with his fingers and slips it into his mouth. There’s a gasp, loud and shocked, but Jensen doesn’t pull back or push him away. Jensen’s dick is thick and heavy on Jared’s tongue, the skin smooth like silk. He can taste the precome, salty and slick, and underneath it a more bitter taste, the remains of Jensen’s come since earlier. It’s as hot as it is weird.

Jensen’s fingers tighten in Jared’s hair as he closes his lips around him, there’s a soft noise that sounds almost like a sob but other than that Jensen keeps completely still and totally silent. Jared doesn’t mind, he’s too busy concentrating on doing this right. He’s imagined this plenty of times, especially the last few weeks, but it doesn’t really compare to the real thing. He runs his tongue along the ridge of the head and then down, feeling the drop-shaped slit tighten around the tip of his tongue, before he lays it flat again and takes Jensen deeper in, sucking a bit harder than before. He tries to remember what Jensen did to him but it’s not like he was taking notes at the time. Still, after a while he feels he’s getting the hang of it even if it’s wetter and way more slobbery than when Jensen blew him. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he’s hitching his breath, thighs trembling and hands fumbling at Jared’s head, like he doesn’t know whether to pull him closer or hold him still.

“Jared,” he whispers suddenly. “Oh.”

Jared sucks him down as deep as he can, and Jensen’s hips jerk forward, almost choking him. It happens so fast Jared doesn’t even have time to wonder if he should pull back or not. Jensen shudders and gasps and then he falls forward, cradling Jared’s head against his stomach as he shakes with the aftermath. His knees suddenly buckle and Jared quickly catches him then gently lowers him down on the bed.

“You okay? Jen?”

Jensen doesn’t answer. His body is still shaking and his breath hitches, again and again. He raises his arm but it falls back on the bed again, boneless. He still won’t open his eyes. Jared leans over to kiss him, remembering at the last minute that his face is all wet with spit and come and he wipes it quickly on his bicep.

“Jensen, hey,” he says, nudging Jensen’s cheek with his nose then kisses him on the temple since he’s not sure what the policy is on kissing on the mouth after a blowjob. Jensen doesn’t move.

Jared pulls slowly away. Jensen still has his jeans down around his knees so Jared pulls them the rest of the way off and arranges him more comfortably on the bed. Jared’s still wearing his own jeans, dick pressing so hard against his zipper it hurts, but he just adjusts himself and lets it be for now. He lies down next to Jensen on the bed, head propped up on his hand as he watches him. Jensen is not sleeping, Jared can tell as much. Rather he seems to be hiding.

“Was I bad? Jared asks quietly.

Jensen shakes his head. He bites his lips together then pulls them apart, teeth still clenched tight, and breathes out noisily through his nose.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jared tells him quickly. “Just let me know if you’re okay.”

Jensen nods. His breath shudders.

Jared breathes in slowly as something suddenly occurs to him then asks, “Was that...? Was that your first time?”

Jensen slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at him. His eyes are wet, the pupils big and dark. “I don’t know,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, the words shaky. “I don’t know.”

Jared swallows. “Did you remember something?”

Jensen seems to hesitate for just a second before shaking his head. He closes his eyes again. Jared watches him, unsure.

“I’m just gonna clean up a bit,” he says. “You rest.”

There’s no response, so he gets up and pulls on his t-shirt again, then turns off the TV before gathering the empty bottles and carrying them to the kitchen bench. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and quickly texts Chad a message, letting him know he’s staying over at Jensen’s. He’s not exactly surprised when he gets a reply barely a minute later that says ‘ _Dont let him bite ur dick off!_ ’, just sends back a ‘ _Fuck u_ ’ and puts the phone on silent. His face still feels sticky, so he goes to the bathroom and cleans up, borrowing Jensen’s mouthwash to freshen his breath.

When he gets back he turns off all the lights except a small lamp by the couch and then approaches Jensen’s bed carefully. “You asleep?”

Jensen shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Is it okay if I stay over? We don’t have to do anything, I just want to be here.”

Jensen only hesitates a moment before shifting to make more room on the bed.

Jared quickly kicks off his jeans but leaves on the t-shirt and boxers. “You’re gonna get cold,” he says and tugs the duvet free before he crawls into bed, so he can pull it over the both of them. Jensen’s skin is a little cold, mostly on his arms and legs, but his chest is still flushed warm when Jared lays a hand over his heart, and he can feel it beating fast under his palm.

“Come here,” he says lightly and lays down on his back, extending his arm for Jensen to rest his head on. “Snuggle time.”

A startled laugh escapes Jensen’s lips, and he opens his eyes, looking at Jared with a gaze filled with mixed emotions. Wonder, and gratitude, and something else Jared doesn’t know how to interpret. Jensen rolls over on his side, snuggling close with one arm over Jared’s waist. Jared turns his head and smiles at him. They kiss, just a soft press of lips, and then Jensen closes his eyes and breathes out, his body relaxing. He’s asleep within minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

_ November 2001 _

_“Jensen, do you know why you’re here?”_

_Jensen sits up slowly and looks around. ‘Here’ is the student counselor’s office._

_“Jensen?”_

_He shakes his head._

_“You had a panic attack. Do you remember?”_

_He remembers blood. And screaming. And someone grabbing him. And then... nothing._

_“You hurt someone. Do you remember that?”_

_He frowns. Shakes his head._

_“You slammed your head into Chris’s nose when he was trying to calm you down. I know you didn’t mean to and he’s not mad but you need to apologize to him anyway, okay?”_

_He shrugs. She watches him. He looks away. When he looks back she’s holding out a box of wet wipes and a small mirror._

_“You might want to clean up.”_

_He stares into the mirror. His reflection stares back. Blood, spattered across his face. Blood, blood, blood and... He grabs a handful of wet wipes and rubs them over his face. His hands shake. The wipes are cold and smell of lavender. He rubs and rubs and rubs. His skin stings but he can’t stop. It’s everywhere. Blood and brains. Blood and brains. He needs to get it off. Off, off, OFF!_

_“Jensen, it’s gone now. Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. You’re all clean now. Jensen. Jensen, stop it!”  
She grabs him by the wrists and he starts screaming._

 

\------------

Present day

“So...” Chris starts and Jensen gives him a sharp look, but even if Chris looks awkward his smile is steady. “Jared looked happy.”

Jensen frowns, laying his pencil down on the table. What’s that supposed to mean? Jared always looks happy.

“And you look very relaxed,” Chris continues, the smile turning smug.

Jensen rolls his eyes. Seriously, they’re gonna do this? It feels so... high school. Not that he had this kind of conversations in high school, but he had ears. People talk very freely when they think no one is listening. Don’t matter that they knew he wasn’t deaf, they still assumed since he didn’t talk he couldn’t hear them.

He flips Chris the finger, but Chris just laughs and sips his coffee, looking smug as hell. “C’mon, you thought I wouldn’t notice? I’m not blind, you know.” His smile turns soft. “It was okay?” he asks.

Jensen looks at him incredulous. ‘Since when are you interested in gay porn?’ he wants to ask. Wants to sarcastically offer to draw Chris a comic, explaining the whole process in excruciating details. Wants to tell him to fuck off and mind his own dirty business.

“I mean, were _you_ okay?” Chris clarifies, blushing slightly. He looks serious now, his ‘I’m-here-to-listen’ face set in place, like a priest fishing for a confession.

Oh. Jensen hesitates. Usually it irritates the hell out of him when Chris does this but for some reason he finds himself wanting to talk. About Jared. About what they’re doing. About how fucking scared he is it will all blow up in his face at any moment.

He nods, giving Chris a brief smile that soon slips away. He swallows. “But what if I can’t–” He coughs but it’s no use. He’s stuck again. Damn.

Chris frowns. “Oh. You didn’t... Not that?” he asks.

Jensen shakes his head. Saying ‘he blew me’ feels so inadequate. Like it was just a blowjob and not a total revelation. He’s twenty-two years old, and it’s the first time someone has done something for him, has wanted to make _him_ feel good. He didn’t even know it could feel that way. He’d almost cried – again! Probably would have if Jared had left him to it instead of staying the whole night.

Which is another thing. It’s the first time someone has slept in his bed. Not even after his worst nightmares has he allowed Chris to be that close. But with Jared he’d just felt safe and warm, and he’d slept sounder than he’d done in years. He hadn’t even woken up whenever Chris stumbled in, presumably reeking of beer and Sophia’s perfume. In the morning Jared had woken him up with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to text him after class, and Jensen had just kissed him back and curled up, asleep again within seconds.

“Hold on. Jensen, are you telling me you’ve never–” Chris stops, eyes going even wider when Jensen looks away, beet red. “Oh. I thought… Oh.”

Jensen clenches his jaw. He doesn’t really want to know what Chris thought.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out,” Chris says quickly. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not that different… Okay, it’s different, but the other stuff is sex, too. Right? And you’ve been fine doing that. A little too fine...” He stops when Jensen glares at him. “Sorry. I just... This is hard for me,” he says flustered. “I don’t know anything about gay sex!”

Christ. Maybe he actually needs that comic.

“Is he considerate?” Chris asks after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, blushing when Jensen looks at him with a frown. “I mean, do you think he’ll want to push further than you’re ready for?”

Jensen snorts. Just the thought is ridiculous. He practically had to drag Jared beyond first base.

“Okay. Then just continue at your own pace. If it proves too much you take a break and wait until you feel ready again.”

It sounds so easy. Probably would be if he didn’t know ‘too much’ meant him freaking out like a goddamn psycho. And that ‘feel ready’ might never happen. He gives Chris a small smile anyway and picks up his pencil. Conversation over. Chris sits watching him in silence a while longer but then he stands up and moves away, getting ready for work. Jensen breathes out. He lays the pencil down again and stares blankly into space. On the table in front of him his phone remains silent.

\----------

‘ _PA!!! Get here NOW!_ ’

Jared looks at the small screen with a frown. What the hell does PA mean? He’s used to Chad making no sense whatsoever but this is a little too obscure even for him. He quickly texts back ‘ _In class, dickhead_ ’ but hasn’t even put the phone back in his pocket when it vibrates in his hand, this time saying ‘ _Ill tell ur mom ab ur porn_ ’.

Jared stops breathing. All the sounds in the room fade into a humming white noise beating in rhythm with his heart. He’s vaguely aware of someone grabbing his arm, asking him, “You okay, man?” so he shakes his head. And just like that it all comes back. The sounds, the room, the air in his lungs. The heart-racing panic. He stands up, his pen rolling onto the floor, the pages of his notebook fluttering.

“I have to go,” he says, too loud. Everyone is staring at him. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

He grabs the notebook, backpack hoisted up on his shoulder, and pushes his way between the rows of chairs and desks and people. He feels dizzy. He feels sick. He is absolutely terrified.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

He runs into Chad as he rounds the corner to their dorm building, looking red-faced and glassy-eyed and pissed the fuck off.

“Dude!” Chad hisses, jabbing him hard in the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your parents were coming? I was in my fucking underwear! I was smoking up, man!”

“I didn’t know,” Jared says faintly. “Shit. Shitshitshit!!” He leans against the wall, his knees going weak. They’re really here. Oh God, they’re really here.

Chad puts a hand on Jared’s shoulder steadying him, his anger gone just like that. “Hey, calm down. What’s going on?”

“They don’t know, okay? They don’t know anything. I left because I couldn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Breathe, man. Dude, you’re scaring me. They don’t know...? Oh.” Chad’s eyes shift uncertainly, like he can’t decide whether to get the hell out of there or stay and help. “Fuck. You need backup? You think they’ll go Jeffrey Dahmer on you or something?”

Jared laughs. It sounds broken. “More Jerry Falwell. I just... Fuck. I didn’t think they’d come here.”

Chad stares at him. “You serious? Your mom told me you haven’t talked to them once since you got here. That you don’t pick up the phone when they call you. You really thought they’d just let you get away with that? How stupid are you?” He shakes his head at Jared’s angry glare. “Shit, my parents are thrilled I’m out of their hair and my mom still calls me at least once a week. If I tried blowing her off she’d come after me with a cleaver.”

“I didn’t want to think about it,” Jared admits. “I was just so glad to be finally out of there. Shit!”

“I can back you up if you want. I can tell them you have a really hot girlfriend. Hey, I’ll call Gen! She’s been dying to make out with you, I’m sure she won’t mind faking it.”

“No! God, no.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “This is it. It’s time to come clean.”

He can’t remember ever feeling so scared in his whole life.

\-------------

“Uhm...”

Jensen ignores the guy fidgeting awkwardly in front of the counter and keeps on drawing. Not his job to help people make up their minds. The whole menu is displayed on the wall behind him, easily readable. Either pick something or get the fuck out.

“Hey, Jensen...” the guy says, sounding a little nervous.

Jensen goes still, the pencil frozen in the midst of adding a hint of blush to Jared’s cheeks. He really doesn’t like people talking to him, whatever it’s about.

“I don’t know how to... I kinda need... I’m Chad, by the way.”

Jensen’s head snaps up. Chad quickly steps back, eyes wide, like he expects Jensen to jump over the counter and throttle him. Jensen narrows his eyes. What the hell is going on?

“Okay, so... Uhm... Jared’s parents showed up, and all hell broke loose, and now he’s locked himself in our room and won’t open the door, and it’s been three fucking hours, and I’m kinda worried he’ll do something stupid, so if you could maybe come and try and talk to him–” Chad’s face turns red. “I mean, if he knew you were there maybe he’d come out to talk to you. Shit, I don’t know. I’m just freaking out, man, and I don’t know what to do. His dad said they were gonna pull him out of college and take him home, and he said he’d rather kill himself and....”

Jensen rips off his apron and runs to the door, throwing it open. He stops. It’s snowing. Heavy white snowflakes, big and wet. He lets out a small choked sound, the whole world tilting from how fast the blood drains from his face.

“Dude, what? C’mon, we gotta go.”

“Jensen, what’s going on?” Chris’s voice says. Jensen turns around, gazing at him helplessly. “What?” Chris asks confused then notices Chad fidgeting beside him. “Who are you?”

“I’m The Chad,” Chad says with a frown. “Jared’s roommate?” he elaborates irritated when Chris just looks at him. “Whatever. He’s gone emo, and I need Jensen here to come get him out.”

“Jensen can’t go outside, it’s snowing,” Chris dismisses, just as annoyed. “What do you mean ‘get him out’? What’s wrong?”

Jensen tunes them out, turning to stare at the heavy snow falling relentlessly from the sky. He can imagine the snowflakes hitting his face, clinging to his skin, clumping his eyelashes. Cold and wet and... He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. In, out. Then he turns around and pushes past Chris and Chad. In the back room he grabs his jacket and puts it on, zipping up and pulling on his gloves. Then he takes a blanket off the couch and throws it over his head before turning around.

Chris is standing in the doorway, watching him with wide eyes. “What are you doing? Jensen, you know you can’t–” Jensen pushes past him again, heading for the door. “Wait! I’ll call Sophia, ask her to bring my truck back.” He grabs Jensen’s arm, quickly letting it go when he turns on him, fist raised. “It will only be fifteen, twenty minutes.” Jensen shakes his head and shoves him aside. “Jensen! Fuck. I’ll come with you. Wait, goddammit!”

Jensen grits his teeth. The blanket is covering his head and shoulders, hopefully providing a little shelter but he’s still on the brink of losing his shit and the longer he waits the worse it will get.

“Here,” Chad says, grabbing a dishtowel from the counter. “You can use it to cover your face.” He shrugs when Jensen stares at him. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

Jensen ties the dishtowel around his neck like a bandana, letting it cover his mouth and nose. He feels like he’s suffocating but it’s still better than getting wet.

“Okay, let’s go,” Chris says, turning the sign on the door so it says ‘CLOSED’. “We’ll make a run for it.”

“Run?” Chad objects horrified. “I’m not running! I’m... Okay, we’re running.”

Jensen ignores them. He keeps his head down, eyes on the sidewalk with quick glances up to see where he’s going. That’s all it takes though for a big snowflake to land on the eyelashes of his right eye. His gloves are too wet to wipe his face, and he shakes his head violently, trying to get rid off it. Melted water runs into his eye, and he stumbles, the world going grey around the edges as he starts hyperventilating.

“Stop it. Keep your head down,” Chris says, pulling the blanket further over his head before grabbing his arm. “I’ll guide you.”

Jensen nods, grateful. His eye is still wet, but the water is already evaporating from his heated skin. They seem to run forever, slipping and sliding on the wet sidewalk and pushing against the increasing wind. He can’t breathe. He can’t, he can’t...

He’s pushed through a door, the blanket thrown off him and the dishtowel ripped from his face, and then he’s sinking to the floor, gasping for air.

“That’s it. You’re doing good,” Chris is saying somewhere above him, his breath heaving. “Just take it easy.”

“You guys are so weird!” Chad wheezes. “Fuck. I’m never smoking again.”

Jensen stumbles to his feet. His knees are shaking. He pushes Chris out of the way and heads for the stairs, taking two steps at a time. By the time he reaches the second floor his legs feel like rubber but he keeps on going, straight to Jared’s dorm room. There are some people standing in the hall but he ignores them. The door is still closed and doesn’t budge when he attacks the handle. He knocks, but there’s no answer. He lays his forehead against the door and breathes. He can hear Chris arguing with someone down the hall, about security and breaking down the door and “Jesus, are you all stoned?”

‘Jared,’ Jensen begs, his eyes closed. ‘Please. Open the door. Please. I need you to open the door for me. Please. I’m so scared. I’m so fucking scared. If you hurt yourself, I don’t know what I’ll do. Please.’

There’s a click, and he stumbles forward as the door suddenly gives, but Jared catches him, pulling him in before closing the door again behind him then hugging him, all loose limbs and careful hands.

“Sshh,” he says. “Hey, Jensen, it’s okay. I’m okay. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I would never do that.”

Jensen pulls back, staring up at him. ‘You can read my mind,’ he thinks dazed.

Jared smiles. “You’re talking, Jen. I can hear you.”

He blinks. What?

“I could hear you through the door.” The smile slips away, and Jared gazes at him, all sad and guilty. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed to get away from them, and then it was just easier to stay in here rather than come out and face everyone. I didn’t know Chad would run to you. I’m gonna kill that stupid moron.”

“He...” Jensen swallows then tries again but it’s no good. Fuck. If he was speaking just a minute ago why the hell is he stuck now? He looks up at Jared, trying to get his thoughts across, but Jared just cups his face and gazes back.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”

Jensen shakes his head, frustrated. He stalks over to the small desk and roots around until he finds a pen and a tattered notebook. Then he quickly draws a picture of Jared, his back turned, a bag slung over his shoulder. He shoves it at Jared who stares at it, confused, but then it obviously dawns on him, because he shakes his head, eyes locked with Jensen’s.

“No,” he says. “I’m not leaving. I promise. I don’t care what they say. I’m eighteen, I’m on a scholarship. I can do what I want.”

Jensen breathes out. He feels a little dizzy. He gestures at the door and looks at Jared in question.

“They went to their hotel. Mom was crying. Dad... Dad wouldn’t even look at me.” His breath hitches, lips turning downwards, and he turns away, hand covering his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s just... fuck.”

Jensen doesn’t know what to do. He lays a hand on Jared’s back, hoping it comforts him. The whole thing is beyond his comprehension. If Jared’s parents can’t accept who he is then to hell with them. What does he need them for anyway? Like he said, he’s eighteen, an adult. They’ve done their job; it’s time to move on.

“I thought they’d hate me but this... this is worse. If they’d hate me I could be pissed off at them, you know? Could tell them it’s their problem, not mine. But they were just... heartbroken. Like I’d killed someone. Like they’d _preferred_ it if I’d killed someone.” Jared wipes at his face with his fingers. “I didn’t even get to tell them about you. Sorry.”

Jensen frowns. Not like he was waiting to be introduced. And Jared’s parents knowing about him would hardly help. If anything it would probably prove to them once and for all that being gay _is_ a curse. ‘Just look at him! He’s a fucking nutcase!’ Except they’d probably not use the f-word, now he thinks of it.

There’s a quiet knock on the door just then, and Chris pops his head in, face relaxing when he sees they’re both there, and neither seems to be dying. “You guys all right?” he asks.

Jensen shrugs, glancing over at Jared who has sunk down on the bed, staring forlornly into space. Jensen looks back at Chris, grimacing.

“Right.” Chris pauses, thoughtful. “I’ll take Chad out for a drink, give you two some time to talk, okay?” He looks back over his shoulder then back into the room, pained. “If I end up killing him, you’ll bail me out, all right?”

Jensen doesn’t even bother with an eye roll, just shoos him out and closes the door in his face. Rethinking he opens it again, pointing into the room before laying his palm against his cheek.

“You’re sleeping over?” Chris looks conflicted for a moment then nods. “I’ll tell Chad. Sure he can find some girl desperate enough to let him spend the night.”

“Hey!” Jensen hears Chad protest as he closes the door again. He hesitates then takes a deep breath and turns the lock. As much as he hates being locked in it’s better than having Chad or someone else burst into the room at any time. He closes his eyes, breathing slowly. He fumbles for the lock again, just feeling it with his fingers to make sure it’s there, easily turned whenever he wants to leave. Okay. It’s okay. The room is small but it has a big window and most importantly, it has Jared.

Jensen turns around. Jared is still sitting on the bed. He’s crying again, big tears running down his face, but he sits still, shoulders slumped, and hands lying slack in his lap. Like he’s given up. Jensen sighs. He walks over and crouches in front of Jared, reaching over to unbutton his shirt. Jared just gazes at him blankly. Jensen wrestles the shirt off his shoulders then pushes him back on the bed and starts working on Jared’s jeans. That wakes him up.

“Jensen, what...? No, don’t...”

Jensen looks up at him and gives him a patient smile.

“Oh, you’re not gonna... We’re sleeping?” Jared breathes out. “That, that sounds good. Okay.” He wriggles out of his jeans and then pulls the t-shirt over his head, dropping both on the floor before lying down again. “Not sure we’ll both fit here,” he says awkwardly.

Jensen shrugs. He strips down to his underwear and slips under the covers. Jared is right, it’s only borderline possible even if he half straddles Jared. After a while of shuffling around he gestures at Jared to roll over on his side, face to the wall.

“I’m bigger than you, you know,” Jared mutters. “You should be the little spoon.” But he rolls over anyway, his back broad and warm against Jensen’s chest.

Jensen slides one leg between Jared’s and an arm around his waist. It’s cramped and confining, and he knows that if they were the other way around, he’d be panicking by now. But he has space at his back, free to roll away if he wants to, and even when Jared covers his hand with his own, pulling it up to rest over his heart, it’s still loose and gentle.

“Thank you,” Jared suddenly says, voice quiet and subdued. “For coming over. And staying.” He rubs his thumb over Jensen’s knuckles. His heart beats fast and steady under Jensen’s palm. “It means a lot.”

Jensen kisses him between the shoulder blades. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he thinks. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you. I can’t go back to the way things were. Alone, and angry, and bitter and no you. I need you. Don’t ever leave.’

He closes his eyes and counts Jared’s heartbeats under his palm.

\-------------

Jared dreams of his father, drowning him in a font filled with holy water. His mother watches with tears running down her face. “It’s better this way, honey,” she says, hands pressed together in prayer. “To die pure. Die for the Heavenly Lord, Jared. Die for Jesus.”

He wakes up, sucking breath into lungs that feel like they’re bursting. Jensen is glued to his sweaty back, warm and comforting. His hand still rests in the cradle of Jared’s palm, fingers loosely curled. His breath is light, hot air brushing the back of Jared’s neck.

“I love you,” Jared whispers. “I don’t care what they say as long as I have you.”

Jensen mumbles something in his sleep. It sounds like, “Fucking idiots.” Jared laughs quietly. He lifts Jensen’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, before settling down again.

 

The next time he wakes up it’s to a familiar sensation hitting him straight in the groin. He blinks his eyes open; sleepy, a little disoriented. There’s a hand stroking over his chest, fingernails catching every now and then on a nipple.

Jared shivers. He mumbles a confused, “Jensen?” and hitches his breath when Jensen nuzzles into his neck, kissing the slope above his shoulder blades. What is he...? Jensen shifts behind him and suddenly he’s _there_ , hard and unyielding, pressing against Jared’s ass through the thin cotton. Oh.

“Are we...?” Jared asks hesitantly, his heart speeding up in his chest.

Jensen goes still. He’s breathing harshly against Jared’s neck, making the short hairs rise. His fingers slowly straighten until his palm lies flat over Jared’s heart. It’s sweaty, and it trembles, just a little. For a moment the whole world seems to hold its breath.

Jared swallows. His heart beats faster and faster, until it feels like it might burst out of his chest. He closes his eyes and breathes out. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Jensen’s breath shudders. He kisses Jared again, pressing his lips to the knob at the top of Jared’s spine and sucks on the skin. He rubs his hand over Jared’s chest then slides it down, lower, lower... over his stomach that caves in anticipation, muscles fluttering. So close. So close... Jared holds his breath, but Jensen’s hand passes right by his dick and runs up his hip instead. Oh come on! Jensen breathes a shaky laugh against Jared’s neck when he groans in disappointment. His thumb rubs over Jared’s hipbone, fingers splayed under his boxers.

“Tease,” Jared grumbles, rolling his hips a little, just enough to feel Jensen’s cock nudge at his ass.

Jensen bites him lightly on the shoulder, just teasing with his teeth, then soothes the spot with his tongue. His lips move against Jared’s skin, a smile or maybe silent words. Jared reaches behind him, laying a hand on Jensen’s hip and pulling him closer. Jensen’s skin feels so smooth under his fingertips, smooth and warm. It’s weird how they fit, Jared thinks, slotted together like this. Like two pieces of a fucked up puzzle.

Jared turns his head to catch Jensen’s eye but Jensen has moved out of his line of vision, teeth now nibbling at the other shoulder. His fingers are stroking Jared’s thigh, down to his knee and then up again a few times before he starts tugging at Jared’s boxers, trying to wriggle them off. Jared lifts his hips, holding his breath as Jensen pulls the boxers down, first with his hand then hooking them with his toes to get them all the way off. Jared’s not too surprised when he feels Jensen press in warm and already naked behind him, but he sucks his breath in just the same. God.

Jensen stills for a moment, hand back on Jared’s hip. He runs his fingers slowly up and over until they catch on Jared’s curls, getting stuck in a tangle. It stings, just a little, but before Jared has time to flinch Jensen has already moved on, his fingers dancing around Jared’s cock and driving him crazy with their promises. It’s so different from Jensen’s usual way, which is to grab and take what he wants, no apologies. This time he seems hesitant, nervous even. Jared isn’t sure if he’s afraid of spooking Jared or himself. Again he wishes he could see Jensen’s face, could read some hint of what he’s thinking, but when he tries to roll over Jensen goes rigid behind him, fingernails digging into his hip. Jared turns his head as much as he can, but Jensen’s forehead is resting between Jared’s shoulder blades, his face out of sight.

“Okay,” Jared whispers, turning back to the wall. “It’s okay. You want to do it like this?”

Jensen nods against his back. He breathes out, cool air rolling down Jared’s sweaty spine. He presses warm lips to his skin, keeping them there as he finally curls his fingers around Jared’s cock. They’re warm and a little sweaty, and Jared can feel them tremble until the hold tightens around him, and then everything else evaporates from his mind. Jensen’s strokes are sure and knowing, twisting his hand and putting pressure on all the right spots at exactly the right moments, and it suddenly hits Jared that this is how Jensen jerks _himself_ off. The thought is enough to make whatever drop of blood he had left in his brain rush southward.

This is the clear benefit of being with a guy, Jared thinks dazed between gasps, they know what works better than any girl ever can. That and... Oh God, _that_ part: Jensen’s dick, wet and silky, slipping in between Jared’s butt cheeks the moment he relaxes them. Jared pushes back, feeling the head of Jensen’s cock nudge at the rim, just teasing him a little before Jensen pulls back with a small grunt.

“Do it,” Jared whispers. “It’s okay. I want you to. I want...” He gasps as Jensen strokes him harder. “No, in me. Come on.”

Jensen’s hand stills. He shifts a little behind Jared, pulling back, and Jared groans in frustration until he feels Jensen’s hand slide back, over his hip and down his ass.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes. “Fuck.”

The hand moves away, and Jared wonders what Jensen is doing when he hears the wet sound of him licking his fingers. Jesus! He holds his breath, spreading his legs as much as he can when the hand comes back, wet fingers slipping over his skin and in between... Oh. Oh God.

It feels even weirder than that one time he tried doing it himself. Jensen’s fingers are slimmer than his but his fingernails are not bitten to the core like Jared’s are, and Jared can feel the edge run along the wall inside him the deeper he slides in. It’s just so weird! And... Oh. Oh, that’s good. That is... Jesus! Okay. That was different!

“That...” he gasps, “feels really... oh... good.”

Jensen hums against the slope of his neck, the tone clearly a question.

“Yeah. Fuck, man. Didn’t know... didn’t know it would feel like that. That’s just one?”

Jensen hums again and kisses him on the ear. He’s panting slightly, the only indication that he’s just as worked up as Jared.

“You can add another,” Jared says after a while. “If you want. It’s okay.”

The finger slides out of him, he hears Jensen spitting and then he’s back with two, pressing into him. It stings this time, a small but sharp pain that has him sucking in his breath. Jensen goes still. Jared breathes deeply a few times then pushes back. It still hurts but it’s no more than he can handle, and he figures he’ll have to get past it if they’re really going to do this. He concentrates on relaxing, willing his stomach muscles to unclamp, and his thighs to go slack, and after a while the sting subsides, leaving a feeling of weird intrusion and an extreme sensation he’s not sure how to describe. It’s too intense to be really good but it’s not bad either. It’s just really, really strange.

In the silence of the room their breathing seems so loud, and the wet sound of Jensen’s fingers slipping in and out is so obscene it makes Jared’s face heat until he’s sure Jensen can feel it, radiating off him like waves of embarrassment. He never expected his first time to be like this. So quiet. If he couldn’t smell Jensen’s shampoo, all fresh and lemon-scented mixed in with the bitter scent of coffee, it could be anyone behind him. Just some guy, fucking him with his fingers. The thought has him tensing without meaning to and Jensen goes instantly still as his fingers get caught within Jared’s body.

“Sorry,” Jared mumbles, willing himself to relax again. “Just got a bit freaked.” He laughs nervously. “It’s still you back there, right? Because if I turn around after we do this and discover it’s actually Chad I’m gonna be scarred for life. Like, seriously damaged.”

Jensen breathes into his neck. There’s silence for the longest time, and then Jensen croaks out, “It’s... me,” the words stuttered and strangled, forcefully pushed over his wall of silence.

Jared breathes out. “Okay. I just...I needed to hear your voice.” He cringes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean... I don’t mind you being quiet, I just...”

Jensen slowly pulls out his fingers and raises himself up on his elbow to gaze down at Jared over his shoulder. He’s biting his lip, his face flushed and damp with perspiration. His eyes are dark, a little wild. He looks a heartbeat away from freaking the fuck out.

Oddly enough that makes Jared feel better. He smiles at Jensen, a little embarrassed by his own reaction. If anyone has a reason to be nervous about sex, it’s Jensen, not him. He can’t even imagine what must be going through Jensen’s mind right now.

“Hey,” he says softly and reaches for Jensen’s neck, pulling him down for a lopsided kiss then lets go and says, “Okay, I’m good now. Carry on.”

Jensen doesn’t move, just keeps gazing at him. Jared doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look in Jensen’s eyes before. Fear, yes. But also gratitude to the point of almost reverence. Like he can’t believe Jared is actually letting him do this. He opens his mouth but closes it again, breathing deeply in and out through his nose before licking his lips, and then he says, voice all rough and scratchy, “We can switch.”

Jared stares at him. Jensen’s pupils are big and black, and his nostrils flare with every breath, but despite the obvious fear he looks determined, and Jared knows that if he said yes, Jensen would lay back and give himself over, just like that. And possibly have a panic attack and end up a crying, shivering, regressed ten-year-old as a result. From the look on Jensen’s face he knows that as well, but he’s still offering.

Jesus. How could Jared ever doubt Jensen’s feelings for him?

“I love you,” he says, his voice choked by the lump in his throat. “You know that, right?”

Jensen looks a little surprised, like he’s not sure where that figures into this, but he nods anyway. “I...” he tries but doesn’t get any further, and after some frustrated grimacing he lays his hand on Jared’s chest, right over his heart, and presses down. His fingers are sticky with spit and hopefully nothing else considering where they were just a minute ago. It’s a little gross to tell the truth, but combined with the intense look in Jensen’s eyes it’s the most romantic declaration of love Jared could wish for.

“I know,” he says and smiles. Jensen breathes out, smiling as well, and leans over to kiss Jared on the lips. It’s crooked and awkward and amazing. When Jensen pulls back Jared grins up at him and says, “There’s lube and condoms in the drawer over there. Suit up and get in me.”

Jensen’s eyes shift, still conflicted, but Jared just nudges him with a smile and after a moment Jensen rolls away. Jared can hear him rooting around in the bedside drawer. Jared keeps still, breathing slowly, eyes on the wall. He’s not sure why Jensen needs to do it this way, hiding behind Jared’s back, but it doesn’t matter. Jared would gladly do it with a bag over his head if he thought that would help.

Even if he heard the snap of the cap being opened he still jumps a little when Jensen’s cold, slick fingers slip into him. There are still only two, and, as Jensen shifts his fingers inside him, Jared absently wonders if maybe he should ask Jensen to add another before they continue. Just in case. But before he has time to figure out how to say it without sounding _again_ like he’s scared – because he’s _not_ – Jensen slides his fingers out, and then his cock is there, pushing in.

Oh God. That’s... big! Too big, too big, too big! Oh _God_! No way it’s gonna... Ow! Fuck. He grits his teeth. Shit, that hurt. Stings like a bitch. But okay, better now. This is okay. He can do this. He... His eyes widen as Jensen pushes deeper and deeper, until he feels like his eyeballs might pop right out of his head.

“Oh God. Jensen... Oh.”

Jensen is breathing heavily, the hand spreading Jared’s ass open slipping suddenly on the sweaty skin, and Jared knows he’ll have bruises from Jensen’s cramped fingers as he scrambles to recover his grip. He keeps pushing until his hipbones hit the curve of Jared’s ass, and then he finally goes still, his breath shuddering at Jared’s neck.

Jared sucks in a breath slowly. “Jesus.” His voice is wrecked, and they haven’t even started. “That’s... Wow. Okay. I’m okay.”

Jensen doesn’t answer, and Jared turns his head, trying to see his face, but it’s once again out of his line of vision. The pressure of Jensen’s dick in his ass is overwhelming, but he doesn’t want to move if Jensen is freaking out back there. “Jensen? Are you... are you okay?”

Jensen just breathes. He lays his forehead between Jared’s shoulder blades, rubbing it up and down, but stays otherwise completely still.

It takes Jared a while to realize what Jensen is waiting for, and by that time he’s close to desperate. “You can move. God, please. Move. C’mon.”

Jensen presses his lips into the soft skin behind Jared’s ear and then finally he starts moving. It’s slow and careful and God, so weird and strange and _big_ and intense and not exactly good but it doesn’t really hurt that much either, not anymore. It’s just really, really _weird_. Is it supposed to be like this? Because it doesn’t feel like something people should be so excited about.

Jensen shifts his hips a little and Jared gasps. Oh, okay. That, that was good. That was... Oh! Jesus Christ! Really fucking good.

“Do that again,” he whimpers. “Jensen, do...That! Oh God. Ungh! Again.”

As Jensen picks up the pace Jared’s mind goes slowly but surely insane. He thinks that has to be it, because there’s no way it can really feel this good. C’mon, it’s a dick in his _ass_. A big thick cock pushing into his very tight ass. How on earth can that feel this amazing?

Jensen grunts, fingers grabbing Jared’s thigh tighter, and Jared realizes he’s been pushing back, trying to get Jensen to go deeper, harder, faster. If he isn’t careful he’ll buck Jensen right off the goddamn bed.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps, catching hold of Jensen’s hip and stopping him. “Wanna try...” He eases over on his stomach, slowly so Jensen won’t fall off or pull out and spreads his legs the best he can on the narrow bed. “Like this,” he says. “Harder.”

Jensen growls and raises himself up on his hands. “Fuck,” he hisses, and before Jared can say, ‘Yeah, that’s the idea,’ Jensen slams inside, so hard Jared skitters up the bed and bumps his head into the wall.

It doesn’t take long after that. His cock is trapped underneath him, squished into the sweat-damp mattress, and every thrust rubs it harder into the sheet. Jensen is panting above him, hips shooting forward fast and slightly erratic, and when he leans over and breathes down Jared’s neck, that’s it, he’s done. He yells, a short and surprised sound that, if he was more coherent, he’d worry might be heard all over the dorm, and then he’s shaking and trembling and gasping for breath. Jensen sucks in his breath, thrusting in once, twice. He lets out a small noise that gets cut off when he falls forward and bites down on Jared’s shoulder. Then he lies there shaking, air whistling through his nostrils. He’s heavy enough that Jared is having trouble breathing, but he’s too wiped out to care. Instead he lies still, waiting for his heart to slow down.

Jesus Christ, that was... Oh wow.

It takes him a moment to realize Jensen’s breathing isn’t slowing down. That he’s still shaking, and that the reason his lips are locked on Jared’s skin is because he’s trying to keep himself quiet.

“Jensen?” Jared tries to roll over but Jensen tightens his hold, keeping him trapped underneath. “Hey, it’s okay. Jensen, it’s okay. Let me see you.”

He tugs on Jensen’s hand and gently pulls him off his back. There’s a wet sound, first when Jensen’s mouth reluctantly lets go off Jared’s shoulder, and then when his dick slips out. They’re making a mess, but Jared doesn’t care. He shifts over on his side, back against the wall, so Jensen can lie down facing up. His eyes are closed, but there are tears staining his cheeks, and his nose is pink, and his breath is still hitching.

“Hey,” Jared says softly. He kisses Jensen’s cheek, then his nose then his lips. “That was amazing. You were amazing.”

Jensen squeezes his eyes tighter shut.

“I love you.”

Jensen presses his lips together, but a small sob still manages to escape.

“It’s okay to feel overwhelmed,” Jared says with a smile. “I mean, obviously I am a fantastic lay.”

Jensen hiccups but the corners of his lips twitch, just a little.

“I mean it! You could sleep with every man on the planet and never find another ass like mine. It’s unique.”

Jensen blinks his eyes open. They’re still wet, the skin all red and swollen, but there’s a glint in them that has Jared’s stomach flipping, and when Jensen smiles his eyes crinkle at the corners, making him look breathtakingly beautiful. He shakes his head, fumbling for Jared’s hand and braiding their fingers together.

Jared smiles. “Just us,” he agrees and leans over to kiss him. “You and me.”

He pretends he doesn’t notice Jensen’s eyes swim over but snuggles down, fumbling behind him for the covers to pull over them. When Jensen turns a few minutes later, back against Jared’s chest and tugging on Jared’s arm until it’s tight around his waist, he might even get a little misty eyed himself.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_ Summer 2002 _

_Jensen hates his brother. Josh keeps staring at him, his face contorted with repressed anger, but every time Jensen tries to stare back, Josh will look away, like he can’t stand the sight of him. Jensen doesn’t care. He doesn’t. Josh is a dick. Dick, dick, dick. Asshole. Fuckhead. Fuckfuckfuck. Assfucker._

_Jensen runs the words over and over in his head and wonders what his mom would say if she knew. Josh gets yelled at for cursing but not Jensen. Jensen can use all the dirty words he wants, he thinks smugly, it’s not like anyone can hear them. He stares at Josh across the kitchen table and yells, ‘FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!’ as loud as he can. No one even flinches. They just continue eating, stuffing their faces with his mom’s awful cooking._

_All except Mac who’s sneaking the beans off her plate. She looks up and Jensen raises his eyebrow at her but she just smirks then sticks out her tongue and continues hiding her greens. He grits his teeth. He could make a racket, bang his hand on the table, rat her out, but he won’t. She’s the only one who doesn’t look at him like he’s a freak. Probably because she doesn’t remember what he was like before. She’s only six, practically a baby. To her this, him being like this, is normal. She actually_ likes _him. Unlike Josh._

_He looks back at Josh who quickly looks away. Jensen clenches his jaw, annoyed. He kicks Josh under the table. Hard. Josh flinches, his face going red and his eyes tearing up with pain, but he doesn’t make a sound. Acts like he doesn’t even notice. The fucker. ‘Fuck you, Josh. Fuck you, you fucking asshole.’ Jensen kicks him again._

_Josh puts down his fork, clears his throat. “Can I be excused? I have homework.” His voice is all cracked, like he’s about to cry._

_‘Crybaby. Some big brother you are,’ Jensen tells him in disgust._

_“Alright, honey,” their mother says. Her voice is flat. It’s always flat. Or broken. Or, sometimes, drunk. Jensen hates her too. He hates them all. Except maybe Mac. She’s too much of a baby._

_Josh gets up, puts his plate in the sink. He’s limping but no one notices except Jensen. Everyone’s too busy pretending everything is okay to ever notice anything. Jensen notices everything. Like the way Josh stops in the doorway and looks back at him, his eyes filling up with tears before he runs up the stairs._

_‘Crybaby,’ Jensen repeats but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as before. He stabs angrily at his beans. The knot in his stomach is so tight it hurts._

 

\------------

Present day

BANG!

Jensen’s eyes snap open.

“Open up! Open the door right now, or so help me God I’ll break it down!”

Arm tight over his chest. Naked skin pressed against his back. Hot, ragged breathing down his neck.

BANG, BANG, BANG. The door handle rattles.

Jensen screams. He bucks, head-butting whoever it is that’s got him trapped, then rolls off the bed, hitting the floor.

“OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

“Jensen!”

A hand grabs his arm, but he wrenches free and scrambles away. Away, away. Gotta get away! But there’s someone at the door. There’s someone at the door, and there’s no place to hide, and, God, he’s so scared. He’s so _scared_.

“JARED!!”

“Shit. Go away! Jensen, calm down. Jensen, it’s okay... GO AWAY!”

CRASH! He’s coming. Tall and dark and yelling, and Jensen is so scared, so scared. Please, no.

“You _pervert_! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna _kill_ you, you disgusting...”

Fingers at his throat. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe...

“JEFF! Let him go! Get the fuck away from him!”

_“I’ll kill him! You come any closer, and I’ll kill the kid! I swear, I’ll...”_  
A shot, so loud it rings in his ears. Everything’s suddenly wet. He hits the floor. There’s something in his mouth. There’s something... He gags, choking, choking... He can feel it, slipping down his throat. Blood and chunks of... of...  
His mind breaks. 

\----------

“Get _out_!” Jared yells. His hand throbs and he flexes the fingers absently to make sure they’re not broken. There’s blood dripping down from his nose from where Jensen head-butted him but he doesn’t think it’s broken either, just bruised. “Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll beat the shit out of you, I swear!”

His brother gets to his feet, slowly. His eye is already swelling up. He looks scared, and it feels so damn _good_.

“Don’t you ever, _ever_ , come back here! I mean it. I’m done with you. I’m done with all of you!”

“Don’t you be putting yourself on a high horse, JT,” Jeff spits out, his voice shaking. “You’re the degenerate here. I can smell what you did. The whole room reeks of it. Of your filth. It’s disgusting!”

Jared grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him toward the door where it hangs crooked on its hinges. “Out! Get out!”

“Get your filthy hands off of me! Like I want to be here,” Jeff shouts back. “And if you think you can come home after this then think again. You just lost your whole family, JT. And for what? That? Look at him!”

He points at Jensen’s huddled form in disgust and that’s it, Jared clocks his brother again, this time hard enough that he flies out the door and lands on his ass in the hall, blood exploding from his nose. Jared slams the door shut, but it bounces open again, all crooked and wrong, so he grabs a chair and shoves it under the handle to keep it closed, ignoring Jeff’s shouting. Breathing heavily he leans onto the door for a moment before slowly turning around.

Jensen lies curled up on the floor, arms covering his head. He’s shaking violently, his breath coming in short panicked hitches that keep getting quicker.

Shit.

Jared pulls the cover off the bed and drapes it gently over Jensen then quickly washes the blood off his own face and the knuckles of his right hand in the small sink. No need to traumatize Jensen further. Once clean he crouches down by Jensen’s side, laying a hand gently on his shoulder, but Jensen still jerks, feet scuffling the floor as he fights to get away.

“Jensen, it’s okay,” Jared says softly. “It’s me, it’s Jared. You’re safe now.”

“I wanna go home,” Jensen whispers, his voice so small and terrified it hits Jared right in the heart. “I wanna go home. Please let me go home.”

Fuck. It’s Halloween all over again.

“I’ll take you home. I’ll take you home, Jensen. I promise.”

Jensen starts to cry, small muffled sounds of wet breathing that if anything seem to terrify him even more. “I, I wet my pants,” he hiccups. “I didn’t, didn’t mean to. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Jared soothes, pulling the covers tighter around Jensen’s shaking form. “It’s okay. We’ll just wash them.”

Jensen relaxes slightly. He sniffles, fist pressed up against his nose as if to smother the sound. Then he looks up, eyes wide in his pale face. “Don’t tell Dad,” he begs. “We can’t tell him anything.”

“Jensen, it’s okay,” Jared says gently, hoping his smile looks comforting and not as lost as he feels. “He won’t mind. They’re just pants.”

Jensen shakes his head. “About the _secret_ ,” he whispers. “We can’t tell him about the secret.”

Jared freezes. His stomach turns cold. “Okay,” he says carefully. “It will just be our secret. Just yours and mine.”

Jensen nods, his lip wobbling. “No one else. Can’t tell anyone else.”

“No one else,” Jared agrees. An idea suddenly strikes him. “But you can tell me,” he says in a whisper. “Because I already know.”

Jensen looks uncertain for a moment before he breathes out, relieved. “Yeah. ‘Cause you already know. But no one else! We can’t tell anyone else.”

“About...?” Jared tries.

“About The Game,” Jensen whispers. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, eyes darting anxiously around.

“Right.” Jared nods. “Remind me, what are the rules of the game?”

“The rules. The rules are: Stay quiet!” Jensen breathes into his knees. “Quiet. Quiet like a mouse. Not a word, not a word. Not a single word, you HEAR ME?” He shrinks back, whimpering.

“Okay,” Jared whispers as quietly as he can. He moves closer, pulling his knees up as well and leaning into Jensen, all conspiring. “And?”

“Don’t cry.” Jensen’s breath hiccups. “Don’t cry or, or... he’ll cut our throats!”

“I won’t cry,” Jared whispers hoarsely, blinking as tears well up in his eyes. “I promise.”

“And–” Jensen’s voice breaks off and he shoves a fist into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. His back curls, head tucked in between his knees, arm bent over it. He starts to shake, shoulders twitching and chest jumping with every sob. There is no sound except for the shallow wet intakes of breath through his nose.

Jared swallows. He has no idea what to do. How the hell do you comfort a traumatized ten-year-old? He keeps absolutely still, not daring to reach out and touch Jensen even if the urge to wrap his arms around him is so strong Jared has to physically restrain himself not to give in to it. He feels ill. Sick to his stomach. The man beside him might be twenty-two years old but there’s no doubt in Jared’s mind that he’s in the presence of the boy Jensen was twelve years ago. A terrified, broken little boy, who is forever stuck in the basement of his abuser, waiting for the monster to come back and hurt him. How do you cope with that? How can he look Jensen in the eye and _not_ see that boy?

The shaking finally subsides, and Jensen’s breathing slows down. The room falls quiet.

“Jensen?” Jared carefully tries.

There’s a long silence, and then Jensen raises his head, blinking slowly. His face is wet, his eyes swollen. He looks confused. When he opens his mouth nothing comes out, and he ends up coughing and frantically clearing his throat.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” Jared says quickly and risks putting an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. He breathes out in relief when Jensen leans into it, huffing in irritation. “Jensen, it’s okay. Look at me.”

Jensen turns his head, his eyes widening as he spots the broken door. He waves his hand in an obvious ‘What the fuck?’ meaning, turning to Jared for an explanation and reels back, staring at him in shock.

“What?” Jared says confused before he remembers. “Oh. It’s nothing. I hit my face on your head, I guess.” He smiles to let Jensen know it’s no big deal, but Jensen only looks more agitated. He tugs at the covers, clearly wondering how the hell he ended up naked on the floor.

“Jensen, look at me,” Jared repeats. “Jensen! Hey.” He gives Jensen a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain later. We were talking about something really important. Remember?”

Jensen shakes his head.

“About The Game?” Jared tries carefully.

Jensen stares at him. He looks over at the small TV in the corner then back at Jared, frowning. ‘What game?’ he’s obviously asking.

Jared hesitates. “You were telling me about what happened to you when you were a kid,” he finally says.

Jensen’s eyes widen, his face draining of color. He grabs Jared’s arm, shaking him, lips mouthing, ‘What?’

“You don’t remember any of it?”

Jensen shakes his head. He’s staring at Jared intensely, clearly waiting for him to continue. When he hesitates Jensen hits him in the chest, nostrils flaring in irritation.

Jared sighs. Fuck. “You kinda... regressed. Back to when… you know. And... uhm... You said there was a secret you couldn’t tell anyone. About a, a game.” He swallows. “You really don’t remember any of this?”

Jensen shakes his head. His face has gone from pale to ashen.

“You called it The Game and, and there were rules.” Jared takes a deep breath. “Be quiet, don’t cry and... I don’t know. I don’t know!” he insists when Jensen’s lips turn thin. “You stopped talking and then... You came back.”

Jensen blinks slowly. He pulls in a short breath and another, his hand coming up to his throat as if he’s having trouble breathing. Suddenly he stands up, the covers pooling on the floor as he starts gathering his clothes.

“Jensen...” Jared tries, sighing when Jensen shoots out his hand. “No, I won’t shut up.” He gets up as well and pulls on his jeans, not bothering to find his boxers in the bundle of twisted bed sheets. “Where are you going?”

Jensen ignores him. He pulls his jacket on, shoving his feet into the boots without bothering with the laces, and heads for the door.

“Jensen, stop! Stop, goddammit!” Jared runs in front of him, blocking the way. “You can’t just run off, okay? We’re in this together. Whatever it is.”

Jensen sucks in his breath, eyes going wide with panic. He tries to get to the door, pushing at Jared when he can’t reach around him. Oh. Right. Shit. Jared quickly moves aside, yanking the chair out of the way and the door swings open. Jensen stops, his chest heaving and he steadies himself on the wall, his knees shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, feeling like a complete idiot. Why does he keep doing stupid shit like this? “Fuck, Jensen, are you all right?”

Jensen nods, although his face is still grey and there’s sweat running down his temple. He points down the hall, then hits his chest before pointing again.

“Out? You need to get out?” Jensen shakes his head. “Home?” He nods. “Okay. But you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

Jensen turns his head, gazing up at him. He looks tired, and scared and so lost it breaks Jared’s heart.

“I’m coming with you,” he repeats, softer this time. “We’re in this together. Plus,” he adds drily, “I’d rather not be here if my twisted family decides to come back.”

Jensen’s eyes turn confused. Then they widen in sudden understanding as he looks at the door and back at Jared, before reaching up to hesitantly touch the bruise on his face.

Jared shrugs. “Jeff. My brother. He wasn’t too happy about the whole gay thing. By the way, just so you don’t get a shock next time you look in the mirror, he got you kinda good around the throat. And yeah, this is why you freaked out. I’m really sorry. I should have known they’d come back.”

Jensen touches his throat gingerly, frowning a little, then shrugs, like it doesn’t matter in the enormity of everything else going on. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he gestures.

“Okay, okay.” Jared pulls on a long-sleeved t-shirt and fetches his jacket. “You think this means something, what just happened? You think you’re starting to remember?”

Jensen shrugs, nervously nibbling at his lip as he waits for Jared to pull his boots on.

“But that’s good, right?” Jared asks as he straightens up and checks his pocket for keys. “I mean, then you can finally deal with it.”

Jensen’s eyes snap to him, hard and angry. He stalks over to the small desk and snags the notebook and pen, quickly drawing a simplified version of a familiar scene Jared never wanted to see again. Wide eyes, open mouth, terror. Jensen taps it angrily with his finger before poking Jared hard in the forehead, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Jared says quietly. “I wouldn’t want that in my head. I’m sorry.”

Jensen breathes out a huff. He takes the notebook back and writes in crooked capital letters, like he’s having to fight his hand to make it obey: FLSHBAKS = REAL.

Flashbacks? Was that what happened? “They feel real?” Jared asks. “Like you’re actually back there?”

Jensen nods. He swallows, his lips twisting like he’s fighting not to cry. He turns the book around again and writes RAPE before FLSHBAKS then replaces REAL with KIL ME.

Jared’s stomach turns cold. “You think it would kill you if...?”

Jensen shakes his head. He points at himself then back to the words before looking up at Jared, eyes wild and desperate.

“You’d rather kill yourself than relive that,” Jared says slowly. He feels numb, the words screaming up at him as loudly as if Jensen had yelled them into his ear.

Jensen briefly closes his eyes then looks up at Jared and nods.

“Jesus, Jensen,” Jared whispers. “Don’t say that. You can’t... No.”

“I...” Jensen stops. He breathes in, out, in, out, then swallows and says, “I was ten. And if... I’ll be ten again. Being raped. I can’t. It’s too much.”

“But...”

“Too much,” Jensen repeats and walks out into the hall, leaving Jared standing in his room, feeling like the world just punched his face in.

 

\----------

Jared is walking a few steps behind him, talking on the phone to Chad. Something about the door to their dorm room, that Chad has to call whoever is in charge and have it fixed. “I don’t know,” he says, voice shaking. “Tell them some drunk kicked it in and you don’t know who it was.” He sounds like he’s on the brink of crying.

Jensen should probably feel bad about that but he’s too filled with fear to manage anything else. Instead he keeps his eyes on the snow-covered ground, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. The air is crisp and clear. Everything is peaceful and quiet. Jensen inhales quietly through his nose so Jared won’t hear how erratic his breathing is, how close he is to giving in to the panic.

He hates flashbacks. Hates them, hates them, _hates them_! They’re way more terrifying than his memories. The memories are there all the time, things he remembers happening and can easily picture in technicolor details. Flashbacks on the other hand come suddenly and often without reason, throwing him back into the exact moment they happened, and it’s like he’s really there. He doesn’t remember it’s all over and done with, doesn’t remember he’s grown up now, and that the fucker is dead. Instead he’s ten years old and terrified out of his mind.

He used to have a lot of flashbacks when he was younger, every one of them of that day, the day he was rescued. Of the feds crashing the place, and the sirens, and flashing lights and the shouting. The shot. Choking on the taste of blood and brains. Screaming until the world went white. They shook him to the core, and would leave him weak and disoriented for days.

He hardly ever has them anymore, thank God, and the few times he does they almost always morph into that dissociative age regression thing. One moment he’s there, scared out of his mind, and the next he wakes up, minutes or even hours later, with no memory of what he’s been saying or doing. Until now he hasn’t cared, been damn relieved to be spared the details to tell the truth. It’s not like the kid ever said anything of importance anyway. Jensen always thought it was because the kid didn’t remember either. Turns out that’s not it, because, now, _now_ the little shit suddenly starts blabbering. About secrets, and games and rules. Fuck. What if the kid decides he doesn’t want to be dissociated anymore? What if he decides to share with the rest of the class? What if he makes him _relive it_?

If he gets flashback of... of... That would be it. He’d end it. Because he can’t. He can’t do it. He just can’t.

“I texted Chris,” Jared says, startling Jensen out of his thoughts as he falls into step beside him. “Told him we were coming over.” He takes Jensen’s hand, braiding their fingers together and squeezing reassuringly.

Jensen nods. He’s never noticed before how small his hand feels in Jared’s gigantic grip. ‘I’m not small,’ he reminds himself. ‘He’s just way too frigging big. That doesn’t mean I’m small.’

“It’s going to be all right,” Jared says, his voice quiet and unsure. “We’ll figure it out.”

Jensen doesn’t answer.

 

Chris opens the door to the apartment at the first scratch of Jensen’s key against the lock.

“What took you so– What the hell happened to your throat?” he growls, and Jensen frowns until he remembers.

He touches his throat. It feels a bit swollen, especially when he swallows, but he’s so used to feeling that way he’d forgotten that this time there actually was something strangling him other than strings of unsaid words. But, before he can let Chris know there’s nothing to worry about, Chris’s eyes snap up at Jared in anger and go comically wide.

“Shit, what the fuck happened to you?”

“Family,” Jared says dryly, not mentioning that the bruising on his face is mostly if not all Jensen’s doing. Jensen never really got those details straight. “Can we come in, or you wanna do this in the hall?”

Jensen doesn’t wait for Chris to answer, just pushes his way past and inside. It’s his place too, for fuck’s sake. He can feel himself relaxing as soon as he can breathe in the familiar scent of his apartment. Coffee and paint and – God, yes – fresh air. Wide space with big bright windows. Home.

Fuck, he hates Jared’s tiny dorm room. Too small, too stuffy and it smelled. Gym sweat and a faint stink of cigarettes – Chad’s no doubt as well as every other inconsiderate asshole that had lived there before them. Next time they have sex they’re definitely doing it h–

Jensen freezes. Shit. He’d forgotten about that. How the hell do you forget about having had sex? He turns around to find Jared and Chris both gazing at him with trepidation, like they’re waiting for him to break down and cry. He probably will, later. Seems once the floodgates opened he can’t close the damn things again. But not right now. Right now he doesn’t have time.

Instead he walks over to Jared and kisses him, then gives him what he hopes is a concerned look. He has to start practicing his nicer expressions in the mirror. He’s got the bitchy ones down to a T, as easily readable as written words, but he’s not used to sharing emotions like these. Mostly because he’s never really felt them before. Would suck if he was trying to let Jared know he loves him and just ended up looking constipated.

“What?” Jared asks, clearly clueless. “What’s wrong?”

Jensen sighs. He lays a hand on Jared’s chest and pats it lightly, his eyebrow slightly raised in question.

Jared frowns, confused. “This?” he says and touches his bruised face. “I told you...”

Jensen shakes his head then tilts it the slightest, eyebrow still raised. He shifts his gaze down, then up again. Jared blinks. His eyes suddenly widen and he goes a bright shade red.

“Oh. Uhm. Yeah. I’m... I’m fine. Really.” He laughs, awkward and embarrassed, and leans down to kiss Jensen on the ear. “I’m all sticky,” he whispers. “Think I can use your shower? And maybe borrow some underwear?”

“Oh man,” Chris groans and makes a face. “I did not need to know that. Please, yes, go shower. Both of you.”

He shudders and turns away but not before Jensen catches a look of pride in his eyes. Any other time it would have Jensen rolling his eyes because really, it’s ridiculous how invested Chris is in him having a nice fulfilling sex life. Maybe he should do that explicit sex comic. It might shock Chris enough that he stops prodding him for details all the time.

He follows Jared to the bathroom after grabbing underwear for both of them from the drawer. Once the door is locked he sits down on the closed toilet, meaning to wait while Jared showers but Jared just kisses him and starts tugging his clothes off.

“Never shared a shower with anyone,” he says with a grin. “We can wash each other’s backs.”

Jensen looks at the small shower then back at Jared, incredulous. Is he insane? No way they’ll both fit in there.

“If we could fit in my bed we can fit in a shower,” Jared says and drops his pants. “Don’t worry.” He gives Jensen a smile as he adjusts the water. “If it gets too tight in there just push me out.” He pauses. “Is it just me or did that sound really dirty?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and tries for a smile. Jared smiles back and steps in under the spray, holding out his hand. “C’mere.”

Jensen hesitates then takes a deep breath and stands up. He pulls his t-shirt over his head then chucks off his jeans and underwear and kicks them aside before taking Jared’s hand, allowing him to pull him in. He ends up plastered against Jared’s chest, water hitting his face, and he flinches back, dropping his chin down to his chest and curling his back. Fuck.

“Sorry,” Jared says quickly. He lays a hand on Jensen’s neck, rubbing it soothingly with his fingers. “Lean against me, here. No, your forehead. Better?”

Jensen nods, leaning his forehead against Jared’s sternum, one hand on his hip, holding on while he fights the dizziness. It’s just water, you moron. Stop being such a baby.

“Want me to wash your hair?” Jared murmurs. “I love that lemon stuff you use. Smells so nice.”

A smile tugs at Jensen’s lips. It’s just some cheap shampoo Chris bought, nothing special. But he has to admit it does smell nice. He likes fresh scents. Lemon, and mint and eucalyptus. The one Chris uses for their laundry, he’s not sure what that is, but it smells good. Clean.

He can’t stand the smell of souring sweat, on his clothes or his skin. It makes his stomach turn. Truth is he can’t really leave the house unless he’s wearing clean clothes, is freshly shaved and has bathed his armpits in deodorant.

“Just as well you _are_ gay,” Chris had commented once, impatiently waiting for him to get ready so they could go out, “or people would start wondering. You primp more than my little sister.”

Jensen would have pointed out that Chris’s little sister is a biker chick who seems to care more about how many studs she can fit into her eyebrow than her personal hygiene, but Chris is stupidly sensitive when it comes to Karen. Which is kinda funny considering she’s considerably taller and could beat the crap out of him any given Sunday.

Jared’s long fingers run through Jensen’s hair then start rubbing his scalp. “That good?” he asks softly.

Jensen hums, his body relaxing as the warm water unknots the tension in his back, and the soap washes away the smell of sex. Again it hits him: They actually had sex. For all his bravado, the truth is he hadn’t been sure he’d ever be able to do that. It certainly hadn’t been what he’d planned on when he’d crawled into Jared’s bed last night. Sure, maybe he’d been hoping for a blowjob in the morning, once Jared had gotten over his whole family drama thing but somehow waking up with Jared’s ass pressed against him all he’d been able to think about was how much he wanted to get his dick in there. And that if he didn’t do it right that moment, he was afraid he’d never work up the nerve again.

If Jared had said no, that he wasn’t ready, Jensen would have backed off. Well, duh. Would probably have backed off so fast he’d fall off the bed. And then he’d probably never have mentioned it again. Because last night... It had felt like standing at the end of a pier, knowing this was it. This was the moment that would change his life. That either he’d take the plunge, or he’d turn around and never learn how to swim. But Jared _had_ said yes, and all of a sudden Jensen was in the water, feet kicking, and arms flailing, and it might not be the swimming of champions, but he had held his head above the water, and he hadn’t drowned. He hadn’t drowned.

“Just so you know, last night was amazing,” Jared says suddenly, like he’s reading Jensen’s mind. “You were amazing. Like, so good. I don’t know what I was worried about, because that, that was mindblowing.”

Jensen’s face heats up. He wishes that was true, but it’s not. He might not have drowned, but he also had no idea what he was doing. Even worse than that, he’d been too scared to face Jared while he was doing it. Been too scared that he’d see pain or panic in Jared’s eyes, but even more that Jared would see _him_ , struggling to get the words out and failing, again and again. Because he’d wanted to ask Jared if it was okay, if he was sure, if he was hurting him, if it felt good. He’d wanted to say that he couldn’t believe Jared was giving him this, was allowing him to do it in this weird, wacko way that probably made it so much more difficult for him.

He’d wanted to tell Jared that he loved him.

The fact that he couldn’t, that those words that were actually _important_ wouldn’t come out... Even if Jared knows it’s not a choice, knowing is not the same as not minding.

Jensen doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ say anything, and he can’t lift his head to try and let Jared know otherwise, not while the water is still hitting the back of his neck, so he stays silent, the small rubbing of his thumb over Jared’s hipbone the only indication that he heard him.

Jared kisses the top of his head, lips pressing into his wet hair for the longest time, and when he pulls away he says, “I love you.”

Jensen squeezes his eyes tighter shut. His thumb traces a small heart on Jared’s hip but Jared doesn’t say anything, so he probably doesn’t notice.

They finish washing up in silence.

\----------

“Okay, so...” Chris says once they’ve settled down on the couch. “The kid came back. Spontaneous dissociative age regression,” he explains to Jared when he looks at him confused. “We’ve been dealing with that since high school.” He shoots Jensen a glance. “Do you mind if I go over that quickly?”

Jensen just shrugs, but he looks uncomfortable, and as soon as Chris starts talking he’s up and moving into the kitchen, occupying himself with brewing coffee. Jared keeps one eye on him while he listens to Chris explain how sometimes, usually when something really shakes him up, Jensen jumps back into the mind of his younger self: a scared ten year old trapped in his kidnapper’s basement. The biggest difference between that Jensen and the present one, beside their mental age, is that young Jensen has no difficulty talking. Not that it makes any difference, because there’s only one thing young Jensen talks about.

“Basically he’s begging to be let go,” Chris says, his voice pained. “That’s what he says every time, ‘Let me go. I need to go home. Please let me go home.’ Over and over again. That’s all I’ve ever managed to get out of him. That anyone’s been able to get out of him. Until now.”

Chris leans back in his chair. He looks tired, way older than his twenty-six years, and it suddenly hits Jared that this is what Chris does, what he’s been doing since they were kids, dealing with all of Jensen’s shit. And however much Chris cares for Jensen, however much he wants to take care of him, it doesn’t change that it’s a lot of work, and he gets little or no thanks for it.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re changing everything, kid. I’m not sure whether to thank you or kick the shit out of you for it.” Chris cracks a small smile, but his worry is obvious. Jared can’t say he blames him.

Jared bites his lip. “I haven’t really done anything. I mean yeah, maybe he talks a bit more than he used to, but it’s just a few words.”

“I’m not just talking about his voice, I’m talking about him,” Chris says patiently. “You know, when he thought you’d broken up with him, he cried. First time in twelve years. Not counting his regression spells, of course,” he adds quietly. “He cries during those, but that’s not really him. That’s the kid. The kid cries. The kid cries so much.”

Chris’s voice trails off, and he sits staring into space for a moment before shrugging violently, like he’s trying to shake off the memory. He looks up and gives Jared a tired smile. “Sorry. It’s just... You never get used to it. Kills me every time.”

Jared nods. He can understand that. He’s feeling pretty weepy himself right now.

Chris clears his throat. “But anyway, this Jensen? Completely different story. Hadn’t cried a single tear since he woke up in that hospital. Until now. Now it’s just waterworks, all the time. Guess you broke the dam. God, he hates it.” Chris chuckles. “Oh, and he’s smiling!” Chris shakes his head in wonder. “Jensen is the grumpiest sonofabitch I’ve ever met. That hasn’t changed, but at least now he isn’t grumpy all the time. Sometimes he even looks happy. You did that.”

“Okay, smiling’s good,” Jared admits. “Crying? Not so much. He cried last night, too, after we–”

He stops, face turning red, and quickly glances over at Jensen. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead he’s hunched over his sketchbook, completely absorbed in his work. He’s obviously forgotten all about bringing them coffee. Jared turns back, expecting Chris to be laughing at him but he’s not. He looks furious.

“He _cried_? Why?” he asks in a low, icy voice. “Did you...? Tell me you were careful with him!”

“What?” Jared says stunned. “Are you serious?” He swallows, feeling angry all of a sudden. “I don’t know or even care how much he shares with you, _I’m_ not gonna give you details about our sex life. But if you think I would ever do anything he wasn’t cool with then you don’t know me at all.”

Chris breathes out. “That’s just it, Jared,” he says, a little calmer. “I don’t know you at all. You seem like a nice kid, and the fact that Jensen likes you says a lot, but it’s not like I’m lending you my car, all right? We’re talking about Jensen’s life here. If this backfires he might end up a lot more damaged than he is now. So excuse me for being cautious, okay?”

Jared swallows. Chris does have a point. “I know it’s a big responsibility. I’m not stupid. I haven’t... I’m leaving it up to him, okay? He’s calling the shots.” He averts his eyes from Chris’s heavy gaze. “I don’t expect anything from him. I wouldn’t know what to expect anyway. Whatever he wants, that’s what we do, okay?”

Chris sits back, running his fingers through his hair. He looks a little queasy. “Dude, that’s not... Jesus, Jared. You can’t just...” He sighs. “Just because he’s fucked up doesn’t mean you can let him walk all over you.”

Jared’s head snaps up. “That’s rich coming from you,” he says, defensive.

Chris looks like he’s going to argue, but then he breathes out, jaw clenched. “Maybe, but I don’t let him fuck me, because I feel sorry for him. Did you?”

“No.”

Jared holds his gaze, hoping Chris can’t hear his heart pounding.

Did he? Was that what he did, let Jensen fuck him, because he couldn’t turn him away, not when it was so obviously something Jensen needed? Because he hadn’t been ready, not really. Not at first. But once they got started... Once they got started he hadn’t wanted to stop. Not for anything. And he’d loved it, that was the truth. As nervous as he had been when he’d first realized what Jensen was asking for, now he can’t wait to do it again.

The sound of a chair scraping the floor makes them both jump. Jared looks over, worried that Jensen might have heard them, but he’s gathering his drawings, face set in deep concentration. He drains his coffee mug then frowns and looks over at them, seeming to suddenly remember his manners.

“Coffee?” he asks, blinking in surprise at hearing his own voice after such a long period of silence.

Jared can’t help smiling. Jensen looks so amazed every time he speaks without really trying. Sure, it might not be the speech of the century but it’s still something.

“Coffee would be great,” he says. “Can I get milk? And some sugar, if you have it.”

Jensen nods and sends Chris an inquisitive look. “Yeah, thanks. The usual,” he adds and Jensen waves it off with a clear, ‘Like I don’t know’ expression. He goes to get coffee mugs from the cupboards and Jared turns to Chris, raising his eyebrows at him, offering truce for now. Chris sighs and nods.

“Where were we?” he murmurs in a low voice.

“We were talking about change,” Jared says coolly, still feeling pretty miffed. “Honestly, I’m not sure this really constitutes as change,” he adds thoughtful. “Maybe what he told me has always been there, he was just too scared to share it with anyone.”

Chris frowns. “So why now? Why wasn’t he as scared this time?”

“Okay, here’s a theory, but don’t put too much faith into it, because I might be way off.” He quickly relates what happened that morning, keeping his face as blank, and his voice as neutral as he can manage, but judging by the look on Chris’s face he’s not really that successful. “So what I’m thinking,” he says, clearing his throat, “is that maybe seeing me throw Jeff out made him feel safe enough for a moment that he dared talk to me. Because the bad guy was gone, and I was the one who got rid of him.”

Chris nods. “Could be. Doesn’t sound that wild to me. Jensen?”

Jared turns his head to see Jensen standing behind him, looking thoughtful. He bites his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth for a moment before nodding. Jared takes Jensen’s hand and kisses the palm, looking up at him with a smile. Jensen smiles back, but it’s distant, pensive.

“So maybe you’re not actually starting to remember,” Chris suggests. “Maybe it’s all still stuck in the mind of the kid, only difference is the kid has finally found someone to talk to.”

Jensen shrugs. He looks wary, like he so much wants to believe it but doesn’t really dare.

“Coffee?” Jared asks lightly, just to distract him.

Jensen gives him a small nod before going back to the kitchen counter. He brings over their mugs and fills his own before picking up the drawings. Once seated he flips quickly through them then lays the first one down on the table. His hand shakes. It’s like all the anger and frustration that usually keeps him alert and on edge has bowed out for the moment. Instead he looks young and scared and unsure, like he doesn’t know what to do, or how he’s supposed to feel. It breaks Jared’s heart.

Jensen sits back, and Jared focuses on the drawing laid out before him. It shows Jensen as he is now, standing tall and confident. Smug even. In the corner is a child, looking small and terrified. Between them is a brick wall.

“You want to keep them separate?” Jared asks.

Jensen nods. He lays down the next picture, showing the younger version of himself standing next to Jared. His small hand is clutched in Jared’s big one, and he’s looking up at Jared with wide trusting eyes.

“You want me to talk to him?” Jensen shrugs then nods. “If he shows up again? Okay, I can do that. What if he doesn’t?”

Jensen gives him a tight smile and puts his thumb up, showing he’s pretty damn okay with that. He hesitates a moment then lays the next one down.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/250647/250647_original.jpg)

Jared reels back. “No,” he growls and snatches the sketch before Jensen can stop him, ripping it into little pieces. “That’s not happening. No.”

He looks over at Chris for support and is met with eyes dilated in shock. Shit. He’d forgotten Chris hadn’t been present at that particular discussion.

“Jensen,” Chris says hoarsely. “What the fuck was that?”

Jensen just looks at him. He seems so tired, so defeated all of a sudden. Like he’s already preparing himself for the inevitable.

“No.” Chris shakes his head. He’s pale, and his hand trembles as he puts his coffee mug down on the table. “No. We’ve made it this far. You’re not gonna just... No.” He hitches his breath, eyes watering. “I won’t let you.”

Jensen sighs and briefly closes his eyes before turning to Jared, looking for support.

“No,” Jared says firmly. “I’m with Chris on this. We’ll figure something out. It won’t come to that.”

Jensen purses his lips then breathes out. He gives them a nod and a brief smile that looks more indulging than sincere. Like this is a fight he doesn’t have the energy for, but that doesn’t mean he’s giving in. He sits still for a moment then lays a hand on Jared’s knee, squeezing it, and stands up. As he does the last drawing flutters face down to the floor. Jared picks it up and turns it over. It looks like his dorm room, with Chad's shit spread all over, as usual.

[ ](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3979/237404)

“What’s this one supposed to mean?” he asks confused.

Jensen hesitates then sits down again and smiles wryly. He points at the drawing of Jared’s room and grimaces with his nose all scrunched up in disgust.

“You hate my room?” Jared blinks. “Why? I mean, it’s not exactly a palace but it’s not that bad.”

Chris snorts. “You’re kidding, right?” he says, his voice still shaky, although he’s trying to hide it. “I just poked my nose in there, and I thought I was gonna suffocate. And it’s about as big as a shoebox. I’m surprised Jensen could step inside that rat hole, let alone spend the night.” He sweeps his arm across the room. “Why do you think we chose this place? You think I enjoy sleeping in the same room as this guy? He has a way too intimate relationship with his right hand for one thing.”

Jensen goes bright red as Jared bites his lips tight together, trying to swallow down the laughter bubbling in his chest. He hiccups, sucking in air through his nose, his eyes watering but it’s no use.

He laughs, laughs like he hasn’t done in years, laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and not just a cheap shot. He knows it’s just the stress, and worry and the fucked up absurdity of the whole situation that’s finally hitting him, but it doesn’t matter. It just feels so damn good to laugh.

Jensen glares at him, looking insulted, which only makes Jared laugh harder. Jensen’s lips twitch, and then he starts chuckling quietly, a sound that gets louder and more hysterical, until he’s doubled over, tears running down his face as he struggles to find his breath.

Chris shakes his head, grinning like he just can’t help himself. “Couple of morons,” he mutters, and they lose it all over again. Jensen ends up with his face pressed into Jared’s chest, heaving for breath, while Jared lays his head back on the couch, blinking tears out of his eyes as he tries to calm down. For that one moment he feels hopeful. He did it. He made Jensen lose himself in laughter just like he’d set out to do. If he could do that then maybe, maybe...

\----------

Chris curses as Jared drops yet another plate into the dishwater, soaking both of them. Jensen can’t help wondering if Jared really is that clumsy, or if he’s using Josh’s old trick of pretending to be terrible at something, so he won’t be asked again. Not that it ever worked on their mother. But Jared had offered, saying it was the least he could do for being invited to breakfast, so chances are he’s not faking it. Which only makes the whole thing more amusing, even if Jensen’s not exactly in the mood to appreciate it at the moment.

Jensen frowns, tapping the paintbrush against his nose as he eyes the big canvas, contemplating where to begin. There are already pencil-drawn outlines taunting him even if he’s not sure yet what they’ll lead him to. Chris had stared at him, incredulous, as he was setting up his easel, like the last thing Jensen should be doing at this time of chaos was paint. Well, the only alternative is allowing the fear to consume him, until he breaks down and cries like a baby. Thanks but no thanks. He’s done enough of that.

He hardly even notices when Jared walks over and stands behind him, chin on his shoulder, one warm and slightly damp hand resting on his hip. Jensen gazes at the shape slowly taking form on the canvas in front of him, frowning slightly, then dips his brush in and keeps going. Jared kisses Jensen on the cheek and leaves him to it.

When Jensen reemerges, hours later, Jared is gone, and Chris is asleep on the couch. There’s a half-empty bottle of Jack sitting on the coffee table in front of him and an inch-filled tumbler by its side. Jensen frowns. Chris looks wrecked. Pale and eyes rimmed red. For a moment Jensen is confused, but then he remembers the whole suicide discussion, and how upset Chris had looked. Guess he decided to deal with it in his own way.

Jensen sighs, not quite getting it. It’s not like it’s anything new. Chris has always known it might come to that. Jensen’s whole life has been about finding reasons not to kill himself, rather than the other way around.

Jensen shakes his head then turns to the painting, still glistening wet in the dwindling daylight. He takes a step back, suddenly dizzy. He’d poured all his emotions into it and now it’s all there, staring back at him from the picture. Insecurity, anger, fear. Fear, fear, fear. Paralyzing, soul-crushing, mind-shattering terror. Oh God.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/235847/original.jpg)

 

Jensen quickly turns to the big windows, seeking reassurance from the wide view outside but the sky is darkening, and the shadows are creeping in. He starts shaking, his knees going weak, and he staggers, reaching out for support and finding nothing close enough. He hits the floor hard, pain shooting up from his knees, and then he’s falling over on his side, wheezing and fighting for air.

It’s not a flashback, not regression. It’s just panic, crippling fear making him crumple to the ground. ‘What if, what if, what if...’ is repeating itself like a mantra in his head. Oh God. Help!

He’s not used to this, fearing the future. Fearing what might happen instead of what already did. At least before he knew what to expect. He knew what he was afraid of. He’d rather have a thousand flashbacks of brain matter exploding all over his face than have a single one of... of that. Because he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he fucking can’t!

He tries to shout Chris’s name but he can’t get a sound out. Fuck. The whole room is spinning. He finally manages to get up on his knees and crawl toward Chris on the couch but the coffee table is in the way and he doesn’t have the strength to get around it. There’s nothing close enough to throw at Chris except... The bottle stands near the edge, its liquid glowing like gold in the last rays of sunlight. Jensen reaches up, fumbling until his fingers grab hold of the cool glass. He pulls it down, cradling it to his chest, and closes his eyes, his breath still wheezing.

Fuck this shit.

 

 

“Jesus, of all the things to wake up to. What the fuck were you thinking, man?”

Jensen whimpers. God, he’s dying.

“Here,” Chris says, handing him a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. “You okay?”

Jensen barely manages to swallow the pills without gagging. He sends Chris a death glare. Does it look like he’s okay?

“You gonna hurl?” Chris asks, unperturbed. “Want me to get you a bucket?”

Jensen clenches his jaw and shakes his head, regretting it instantly. Fuck. His _head_. He clutches it with a groan, back curling where he’s sitting on the couch. Chris shifts like he wants to add something but then he just sighs and lays a hand on Jensen’s neck, rubbing it gently.

“I thought we’d agreed you’d stay away from hard liquor,” he says quietly. He sounds more disappointed than angry now. “You know the risk.”

Jensen shrugs him off, irritated. Yes, he knows. Substance abuse, very popular among freaks like him. Chris wouldn’t even let him smoke weed in college, the fucker. So what, that means he can’t get shit-faced _once_ , not even when his whole fucking life is falling apart?

Chris sighs. “Never mind. Why were you drinking? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Jensen sighs. He flops his hand down on the table, palm up, and points at the floor before reaching out, stretching his fingers toward Chris then dropping his hand again.

“I mean before you got drunk,” Chris says irritated.

Jensen lifts his head and glares at him. He repeats the gesture then makes a rolling motion with his index fingers, indicating time moving along, before mimicking drinking.

“Oh.” Chris’s irritation instantly vanishes, replaced by worry. “You just fell? Why? Are you all right?”

Jensen shakes his head. He points at the painting, keeping his eyes averted. He hasn’t been able to look at it since he woke up. Chris turns around and jerks back, like he’s only now noticing it.

“Shit,” he breathes, staring. “What the hell is going on inside that head of yours, Jensen?”

Jensen doesn’t answer. He’d rather not think of that. He taps the table with his knuckles to get Chris’s attention then draws a J on the surface, eyebrows raised in question.

“He went back to the dorm to sort out the whole broken door thing,” Chris tells him, still throwing wary glances at the painting. “That boy is a mess, you know. You need to remember that you’re not the only fucked up person in this relationship.”

Jensen nods. He knows. He’s starting to get a clearer picture of what Jared has been dealing with. He still can’t really understand _why_ Jared cares so much about what his parents think of him, but he can see how much it bothers him. Still... Jared’s fight with his parents and brother might turn out to be a good thing. Unlike the years of silent suffering before, _this_ time he’d stood up to them and defended what he was, instead of allowing them to condemn and curse it while pretending it didn’t concern him. Once he stops feeling sorry for himself and realizes what he actually did, he’ll probably feel a lot better.

Jensen can’t help envying him. Sometimes he wishes the feds hadn’t killed the fucking creep that kidnapped him. If he could face him as an adult, just once, then maybe he could stop imagining him as this unbeatable monster and see him for what he actually was. A sicko, and a pervert, and probably a fucking kiddie rapist but still just a man. If he could look that man in the eye, if he could plant his fist in his fucking face, his knee in his balls. If he could hold a gun to the motherfucker’s head and watch him whimper and cry and ask for mercy. If he could pull the goddamn trigger himself and watch that sick brain splatter all over the wall–

“Jensen, hey. You okay there?”

He snaps out of his thought, blinking up at Chris. His breathing is rapid, his heart hammering in his chest. His hands hurt, and he looks down to see he’s pressed his fingernails deep enough into the fleshy pad of his palm to bring out tiny crescents of blood. He flinches, wiping his hands frantically on his jeans, and even if it’s hardly enough to stain the denim it still makes him feel sick.

“Come on,” Chris says gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. And brush your teeth, man,” he adds with a grimace.

Jensen flips him the finger but it’s half-hearted. He stumbles to his feet and waits until the room stops spinning before making his way to the bathroom.

“You want me to call you in sick at work?” Chris asks as Jensen is pulling his t-shirt off.

Jensen shakes his head. He’d rather deal with pissed off customers and spilled coffee than his own thoughts. His headache is dwindling, and once he’s clean and dressed he’ll be better able to pretend it’s just any other normal day.

Normal. Jesus, what a fucking joke.

The warm water beats upon his back and his lowered head. Rivers run down his cheeks and jump off his chin like a waterfall. He breathes in. Breathes out. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, blood rushing, whoosh, whoosh. He imagines it slowing down, until there’s just one slow beat after another. Boom, boom. Boom. Boom. Boom... And then finally, blessed silence.

Jensen nods to himself, his body relaxing as a sense of serenity washes over him. If that’s what it comes down to, it’s all right, he’s ready. He accepted his fate a long time ago, it’s only been a matter of when, and, frankly, he expected it to be sooner. He’s been screaming inside his head for twelve years. It will be nice to finally be quiet.

 


	7. Chapter 7

_ August 2004 _

__

 

_“So... high school. How’s that going?”_

_Jensen shrugs._

_“Do you like your teachers?”_

_He grimaces. They all stare at him. All the time. He hates it._

_“Any new friends?”_

_Jensen shakes his head. He doesn’t need new friends. He has Chris looking out for him. Has had ever since he broke Chris’s nose in sixth grade._

_“How about girlfriends?”_

_He shakes his head again. His jaw makes a small click when he bites his teeth together, hard._

_“Jensen, do you _like_ girls?”_

_Jensen stares at the floor._

_“Do you like_ boys _?”_

_He closes his eyes._

_“Jensen?”_

_Breathe. Breathe. He glances quickly at the door. It’s closed. What if it’s locked? He stands up abruptly but she gets up as well, blocking his way._

_“You are safe. It’s okay. Just sit down. Talk to me.”_

_He shakes his head. The walls are closing in. Everything smells of sweat and blood and cigarettes. His mouth feels sticky._

_“I want to go home,” he whispers and she sucks in her breath._

_“Oh. Oh my. That is such a beautiful voice, Jensen. I would love to hear you talk some more. Come, sit down. Please, Jensen. Stay and talk to me.”_

_Jensen runs his tongue under his front teeth, trying to shave the taste off. His mouth is thick with it. He needs to spit. He wants to throw up. “Please. Let me go. I want to go.”_

_“Jensen...”_

_“I need to go! Let me go! Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!”_

 

\------------

Present day

The next week it feels like everyone is tiptoeing around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Strangely enough Jensen is the only one who seems more or less the same. If anything he’s more relaxed, even talking more easily than he used to. Which only has Jared more on edge.

“I don’t get it,” he tells Chad. They’re at The Black Bean, supposed to be studying, but Chad is on his laptop – looking at porn Jared suspects – and Jared can’t take his eyes off Jensen who’s silently serving behind the counter. Not the first time. He spends more time here than in their dorm or the library. He sometimes even skips class, although he doesn’t tell Jensen that. It’s stupid but he feels this need to keep an eye on Jensen, just in case. “He was freaking out and now... It’s like nothing happened.”

“Maybe he’s blocked it all out,” Chad suggests with a shrug. “That’s what he does, right?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Jared says, although he’s not sure. Jensen looks up then, rolling his eyes when he notices Jared staring. Jared looks away, blushing, and tries to concentrate on the book in front of him. Less than two minutes later he’s back to watching Jensen, and this time, when Jensen catches him at it, Jared doesn’t even try to pretend, just smiles and gives Jensen a little wave. Jensen shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and it makes Jared’s heart flutter now as it does every time.

“I’m worried,” he says in a low voice even if he knows Jensen can’t hear him over the noise of light chatter and coffee brewing. “Shit, I’m fucking terrified. If he... I don’t know what I’d do.”

Chad looks up at that. “Dude,” he says, clearly uncomfortable.

“I know, I just...” He swallows. “This is it. I know I’m young and all that shit, but this is it for me. He’s it. And if he... If I lose him I don’t think I will ever be okay.”

“Then make sure you don’t lose him,” Chad says, voice suddenly hard. “Put him on suicide watch, hide the kitchen knives, whatever. Make sure he knows what it will do to you if he decides to jump off a bridge.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows,” Jared says glumly.

Chad shakes his head. “You told me he doesn’t get why your problems with your family mean so much to you. He obviously doesn’t get how fucked up Chris is because of him. What makes you think he understands what it would do to you if he dies? Seriously, man, from what you’ve been telling me, I’d say he thinks he’d be doing you a favor. He probably figures once he’s gone, you can forget all about him and find someone who’s normal and not a psycho.”

Jared stares at him. “He can’t be thinking like that. That’s just... No. Come on. He knows I love him. He loves me. When he thought I was gonna hurt myself, because you told him I might, you asshole, he freaked out. He said it, he wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to me. He told me so.”

“So?” Chad sighs when Jared glares at him. “Dude, just because he doesn’t think he can live without your sorry ass doesn’t mean he understands you feel the same way. You said it yourself, he doesn’t understand why other people care. About anything. You’re the only one in the whole world that he cares about while you have lots of people. You love your family, even if they are complete asshats. You have friends, like _moi_ , who are awesome. You could walk into a room, and when you walk out again you’d have ten new BFFs hanging on your arm. From where he’s standing, you’re good and taken care of, whether he’s here or not.”

“That is such bullshit,” Jared shoots back angrily. “I don’t make friends that easily. No offense, but if you weren’t my roommate I’d never have even talked to you, because you’re kind of an asshole.”

“I’m a very lovable asshole,” Chad protests. “And whatever, doesn’t matter what _you_ think, okay? It matters what _he_ thinks. And from what you’re telling me I’m guessing he doesn’t think he’s worth getting heartbroken over.”

Jared swallows. He looks over at Jensen, who’s purposefully ignoring some frat boy who’s bitching over there not being enough foam in his cappuccino. Jared happens to know Jensen makes a perfect cappuccino, so either the guy is just being a jerk, or Jensen deliberately fucked up the guy’s drink, because he didn’t like him. Either way he clearly doesn’t give a shit.

Not that you can really compare coffee to life but Chad still has a point. Jensen doesn’t care what people say or think about him, because he doesn’t believe himself to be important enough that it matters. Even if he knows people care about him, love him even, it’s a feeling he’s sure they’ll get over once he’s gone. That kind of thinking is not only tragic, it’s very dangerous.

“So what do I do? How can I make him understand that I’ll be just as devastated without him as he’d be without me?”

Chad snorts. “Dude, what makes you think I know the answer to that? Longest relationship I’ve had is with Danneel, and that’s only because she has no idea we’re dating. Far as she knows I’m just a very enthusiastic reader that likes to bring her coffee.”

Jared sighs. “Right. Yeah. Tell her thanks next time you see her,” he adds, glancing at his bag that’s stuffed full with printed out material about everything you never wanted to know about how fucked up people’s lives can get. “I can tell she went through a lot of trouble.”

Chad smiles. “Man, she’s hot when she’s all sexy librarian. She keeps playing with this pencil, you know? Tapping it against her nose and scratching herself behind the ear and sometimes she just... sucks on it.” He sighs, eyes glazed over. “Once she knew what you needed it for she was all a-fire. Such a turn on.”

Jared glares at him. “Dude, you told her?” he hisses. “What the fuck, man?”

Chad blinks out of whatever dirty fantasy he’d been slipping into and looks at Jared annoyed. “No. I told her you needed material on PTSD and mutism and, she said, ‘Oh, is this about Jensen?’ Turns out her niece comes here every Thursday. The kid’s pretty much wallpapered her room with your boy’s drawings.”

“Oh.” He gives Chad a rather sheepish smile. “Just don’t mention it to Jensen, okay? Not sure how he’d feel about me researching his brain.”

“I think you underestimate my complete lack of caring,” Chad snorts, as if he wasn’t Dear Abby-ing a minute ago. “Look, are you about done? Can we get out of here?”

Jared shakes his head. “You go. I’m gonna wait for Jensen’s break. Which should be...” He smiles as Jensen rips off his apron and throws it at Chris’s head before picking up two cups of steaming coffee. “Right about now.”

“I’m guessing neither of those are for me,” Chad mutters. “Dude, you get both sex _and_ free coffee. How’s that fair?”

“I don’t get free coffee!” Jared protests, not mentioning that he’s not really getting any sex either. “It’s refill.”

“Uhuh. Of the last cup you paid for which would have been... Monday.”

“Shut up,” Jared says, his cheeks reddening.

Jensen reaches the table just then and hands Jared his coffee with a smile, ignoring Chad completely. He puts his own mug down on the table then hooks his finger under Jared’s chin, tilting his head up for a kiss. It starts out light, until Jared lays his free hand on Jensen’s hip, and Jensen breathes a small sound into Jared’s mouth, and just like that they’re really kissing with Jensen’s fingers caught in Jared’s hair, and the whole world spinning behind Jared’s closed eyelids. It’s not until he feels the heat of the mug burning his palm that he pulls back, a little out of breath and his face flushed.

“Hello to you, too,” he whispers.

Jensen smiles and kisses him again, just a quick one this time that still has Jared chasing his mouth as he pulls away. Jensen slides into the other side of the booth, hiding his grin behind the mug when Jared pouts at him. Chad is gone, leaving his empty mug and ‘ _U guys R gross_ ’ written on his napkin. Jared snatches it and twists it into a ball before giving Jensen an apologetic smile.

“I think he’s jealous,” he says. “Poor guy has a lousy love life.”

Jensen chuckles and sips his coffee. He gestures at Jared’s book and raises his eyebrow. Jared shrugs.

“Quiz on Monday,” he says, grimacing slightly. “Why did I switch to English literature again? This crap is so boring.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. He reaches over and flips the book to read the cover and his face splits in a grin. He looks up at Jared and bats his eyes, smiling coquettishly.

“Yes, _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” Jared says, feeling himself blush. “Shut up.”

Jensen’s smile softens. He pulls the book closer and flips through the pages, eyebrows drawn together in thought. After a while he stops, tapping his finger on the page in front of him. He clears his throat and says, “My favorite part.”

Jared turns the book over, the cold pit in his stomach expanding when he reads the passage Jensen is referring to.

_‘Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,_  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night,  
And pay no worship to the garish sun.’ 

Maybe it’s just because of it being so much on his mind lately, but he really doesn’t like Jensen talking about death, even if he’s quoting Shakespeare. It just feels too ominous.

Quickly Jared skims through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for and reads it out loud:

_“Ah, dear Juliet,_  
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe  
That unsubstantial death is amorous,  
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps  
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?  
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;  
And never from this palace of dim night  
Depart again: here, here will I remain.” 

He looks up, fixing Jensen with a stare that is met with a confused gaze, like Jensen can sense Jared is trying to tell him something, he just doesn’t get what.

“They couldn’t live without each other,” Jared says quietly. “He couldn’t live without her and when she discovered he had killed himself, she took her own life as well. That’s how much they loved each other.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “World’s first emo victims,” he snorts.

Jared cracks a small smile. Jensen isn’t exactly wrong, he’s just not getting the point Jared is trying to make. “What would you do if I died?” he asks.

Jensen freezes. He stares at Jared, eyes big and incredulous. He opens his mouth but this time nothing comes out and he snaps it close again, lips twisting furiously. He tries again and ends up coughing until he’s gasping for breath. Jared reaches across the table in alarm, taking Jensen’s hand and squeezing it.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I was only... Jensen, it’s okay.”

Jensen shakes his head. He looks extremely upset, there are tears in his eyes that Jared is sure aren’t just from choking.

“Jensen, I’m not gonna die. It was just a question. I was just... It was stupid, okay? Hey, look at me.”

But Jensen keeps shaking his head, eyes searching until they set on Jared’s bag and he snatches a couple of printed pages from it. Jared’s heart jumps up in his throat. “Jensen, wait...” he says but Jensen is already flipping them over, not even bothering to check what they are. He grabs Jared’s pencil and starts drawing, his jaw set tight and eyes blinking rapidly.

Jared expects Jensen to draw a grave or maybe his own dead body but what he gets is a picture of himself with a bubble that says ‘blahblahblah,’ and Jensen watching, his mouth stitched shut, and his heart crumbling like a sandcastle. Jensen shoves the drawing at Jared and angrily mouths what looks like ‘Not fair’. Jared swallows. Jensen is right. It’s not fair asking him questions he can’t answer, especially not questions like that.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I forget sometimes that...” He stops, not sure how to say it. “It was inconsiderate. I wasn’t thinking.”

Jensen huffs. He taps the pencil against his coffee mug, frowning. Then he takes another page and starts drawing again. It’s a window, looking out over nothing. Empty, dirty landscape, nothing but sand and rocks and gravel.

“What’s that?” Jared asks quietly.

Jensen doesn’t answer right away, he touches the drawing with his fingertips, biting his lips together and breathing slowly. Then he looks up and says, “My life. If you die.”

Jared nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What about me if you die?”

Jensen purses his lips, eyebrows knotting. He steals another page and quickly draws a sad teary-eyed Jared.

“That’s all?”

Jensen just looks at him.

“Jensen, if you die... If you die I’m not just gonna cry a little. Or a lot,” he adds sharply when Jensen condescendingly adds another tear. “Man, you’re so... You just don’t get it, do you?”

He leans forward, gazing into Jensen’s eyes. “That thing you feel? That empty nothing you imagine your life will be without me? That’s love, okay? That’s because you love me.”

Jensen gives him a pointed ‘Duh’ look and Jared can’t help smiling, just a little.

“Well, I love you, too. So that?” He points at the drawing of the window. “That’s how I imagine my life without you.”

Jensen frowns and starts to shake his head, but Jared quickly cuts him off.

“Don’t. Don’t do that to me again. My feelings matter, Jensen. I matter. You need to get it into your thick head that my feelings are just as real as yours. That I love you just as much as you love me. What makes you think I’d handle losing you any better than you’d handle losing me?”

Jensen bites his lip. He looks uncertain; his eyes flickering from Jared to the drawing of the window then back again, like he’s not sure what to believe.

“Look, I understand why you’d rather die than relive what happened to you,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen goes still, his eyes dropping to the table. He fumbles with the pencil in his hand and ends up dropping it so it rolls off the edge and to the floor. Neither of them moves to pick it up.

“I can’t blame you for thinking like that. But... Jensen, if you did? It would ruin me. It would completely destroy me. And I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, I’m saying it because it’s the truth. I need you to understand that, how much you mean to me.”

Jensen swallows. He presses his lips together, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly in his throat. A tear drops from the tip of his nose, leaving a wet spot on the page in front of him, and he wipes quickly at his face with the back of his hand. He nods.

“Okay,” Jared breathes out. “Good. Good.”

Jensen nods again and then he suddenly slides out of the booth and stands up, leaving his coffee and the drawings on the table. He hurries right past Chris who’s working the counter and disappears into the back room, closing the door behind him. Chris looks surprised at the closed door before glancing over at Jared, lifting his eyebrows in question.

Jared sighs. He wants to believe something good just happened, but he can’t be too sure. What he wouldn’t give for just a small glimpse inside Jensen’s head, just to know what he’s thinking.

Then again, considering what’s in there, maybe not.

Chris finishes ringing up the customer’s bill and walks over. “What the hell was that about?”

“I was testing a theory,” Jared says tired. “Then trying to disprove it.”

“Okay, that makes no sense,” Chris says. He looks at the drawings on the table, frowning. “What’s that?”

“That,” Jared says, rubbing his eyes, “is how he thinks our lives will be if the other dies. Mine without him. His without me.”

Chris’s frown deepens for a moment until it obviously dawns on him, and he sighs. “Right. Of course. God, he’s such an idiot. So, did you manage to explain to him how stupid he’s being?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He glances over at the closed door. “What do you think he’s doing in there?”

“Crying again would be my bet.” Chris sits down, eyes still on the drawings. “He’s having real trouble controlling it. It pisses him off to no end.” He smiles a little, but it looks sad. “How are you?”

Jared looks at him surprised. “I’m good. School keeps me busy. And Jensen. Other than that... Not much going on.”

Chris nods. “You hear from your parents yet?”

Jared drops his gaze. He shakes his head. “Don’t think I will. My brother made it pretty clear I wasn’t part of the family anymore.”

“Well, your brother is an asshole. Don’t listen to him. They might still come around. What about your sister? You try talking to her?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Jared cuts him off. “It’s over and done with, okay? Nothing more to say about it.”

Chris watches him for a moment then shrugs. “Fair enough. Just remember we’re here for you if you ever do want to talk.” The bell above the door pings, and he looks up, sighing. “Back to the trenches,” he says and stands up. “If you wanna go back there be my guest.”

“I will. In a minute.” He watches Chris leave then stuffs the drawings back into his bag. He finishes his coffee, slowly to give Jensen a little time alone, before standing up and gathering his things.

At first he thinks the backroom is empty but then he realizes the bundled up blanket on the couch is actually Jensen, curled up underneath. Jared hesitates. He’s so not in any shape emotionally to deal with little kid Jensen if that’s who’s hiding under there.

“Jensen, hey. You okay?”

Jared dumps his things on the floor and sits down on the edge of the couch, pulling gently at the blanket.

Jensen is fast asleep. He looks young and vulnerable, his eyes swollen and pink, and his lips dry and cracked. Jared rubs his thumb lightly over Jensen’s temple, feeling the steady pulse underneath the thin skin. He leans over and presses his lips to it. Jensen doesn’t stir.

Jared leans back and sighs. He pulls his bag over by the strap and finds his book again. Might as well get some reading done while he’s keeping watch.

\--------------

_“Hello, Jensen.”_

_Jensen squeezes his eyes shut. ‘You’re not real. You’re dead. You’re dead.’ But it’s no use. He can feel himself shrinking, arms and legs shortening where they curl into his body, his heart growing smaller and smaller until it beats as fast as a baby bunny’s._

_“Isn’t this nice? Just you and me again. I’ve missed you. You were such a sweet boy. My favorite.”_

_A hand strokes over his head, playfully ruffling his hair. He jerks away, but the room is too small, and there’s no place to hide. There’s nowhere to go. He has nowhere to go anymore._

_“That’s right. Not without breaking your precious little boyfriend’s heart. Tell him thanks for me, will you?” The voice laughs. “You know what this means? It means you can never get away. I’m always going to be here. For the rest of your life. Your very, very long miserable life.” The laughter is light, almost giddy. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much_ fun _!”_

 

 

“Don’t you know I hate waking up to find you gone?”

Jared kisses Jensen on the ear, and he smiles briefly, eyes never moving from the canvas in front of him. His fingers are flecked with charcoal and paint.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Jared continues. “Can you even see anything?”

Jensen shrugs, not really listening. His eyes burn, everything is a little blurry, but he doesn’t want to stop, not now. He rolls his shoulders, feeling the ache in his muscles roll with them from one nerve point to another. He has no idea what time it is, how long he’s been at it. There are two discarded paintings lying stacked in the corner, the paint slowly drying, sticking them together and leaving stains on the floor. He doesn’t care. It’s not about quality, it’s about getting it out of his head, out of his system. Like letting off steam, one blow at a time, easing the pressure until it becomes bearable. Until he can breathe and smile and act like he’s not screaming in terror inside his head.

“You have work in about five hours,” Jared says. He’s running his fingers over the tight knots in Jensen’s back, his voice worried. “You need sleep, man.”

Jensen nods. He knows. He hasn’t been sleeping well, and when he does... The voice, the voice he knows is _His_ , even if it’s so different from the screams and yells he remembers from that day, is always there, refusing to shut up. He thinks he’d prefer it if He yelled. The soft happy voice in his dreams sounds too human, too fucking normal. Like it could belong to anyone. It makes the things He’s saying sound so innocent. Like maybe it’s Jensen’s mind that is warped and twisted. That he’s the one seeing something perverted in what was just some guy being nice to him.

‘You are such a sweet boy,’ the voice keeps telling him, saccharine sweet and tinted with something Jensen can’t put to words, but it makes him want to curl up and scream until he dies. ‘Such a sweet little boy. My sweet little boy.’

The words felt so familiar, but it wasn’t until this morning, when he’d woken up sick to his stomach that he’d realized where he knew them from. It’s what his mother kept telling him in the hospital. Warm hands hesitantly stroking his cheeks, because he couldn’t bear for her to hug him. ‘My boy. My sweet little boy,’ she’d said with tears running down her face. He can still clearly hear the grief and desperate love in her voice, even if he couldn’t, and still can’t, appreciate her emotions.

The words are the same but what they promise is very different. Jensen has no doubt that if indeed He ever said those words He meant them in the worst possible way anyone could imagine. My. Sweet. Boy.

God, he’s just so _scared_. Two weeks now, and it’s like he’s walking a tight line, with ‘just fucked up’ on one side, and ‘royally fucked up beyond repair’ lurking on the other, waiting for him to fall into its clutches. If this keeps up he has no doubt on which side he will end up.

Before he’d at least had a way out if things went to hell. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. Something he could rely on no matter what happened. Just knowing he had that option made everything feel lighter, easier, to the point that he’d felt almost liberated from the threat. Until Jared had fucked that all up for him.

If Jared was telling the truth, if that is really what losing Jensen will do to him... Well, then that’s not an option anymore. And then what else is left? Nothing, that’s what. Nothing at all. So what’s he supposed to do? What the hell is he supposed to do? He’s on a fast track to his worst possible nightmare coming true, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing!

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jared asks, naked chest against Jensen’s sweaty back, one arm loose around his waist. Hair brushing the side of his face. It smells like Jensen’s shampoo, all lemon-scented and fresh.

Jensen closes his eyes. There’s a lump in his throat that never seems to go away these days. It makes it hard to breathe, has him bursting out in stupid tears for no good reason, and it makes talking goddamn impossible. He hasn’t been able to get a single word out all week, not even with the kids. His throat feels like he’s coughed it raw and bloody, but it’s no use, the words won’t come. Whatever steps he had taken toward recovery he’s sliding down the hill so fast now it won’t be long until he falls off the edge altogether.

“I love you,” Jared says softly. “So much. And if there’s... Don’t keep it all to yourself. Tell me. I want to help.”

Jensen almost starts laughing. ‘You’re why I’m in this damn mess, stupid. You and your stupid love and your stupid feelings and– Fuck, Jared, why did you have to make me care?’

He leans back against Jared’s chest, tilting his head just a little so Jared’s chin fits better on his shoulder, and concentrates on breathing. Just as well he can’t talk. Don’t matter how much he wants to blame Jared, truth is he’d rather feel like this with Jared right by his side than feel nothing without him.

“Is this what you see when you close your eyes?” Jared asks quietly, nodding toward the painting in front of them. It’s dark, so dark it feels like it’s sucking the light out of the room, but deep in the darkness there is someone, watching. Waiting.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/236395/original.jpg)

Jensen shakes his head. He doesn’t see Him but he can feel Him. Lurking. Waiting to pounce. He doesn’t know how to explain that to Jared though, not without words. Jared sighs but he doesn’t ask Jensen to elaborate. It’s like he’s stopped expecting Jensen to talk after less than a week of silence.

‘Did you know,’ Jensen wants to say, ‘that from the time I woke up in the hospital until sometime my first year in high school I didn’t say a word? Not one. People thought I was brain damaged. Even my parents did until a brain scan showed them there was nothing wrong. I think they wanted there to be. I think they’d rather I was brain damaged than a fucking mental case.’

“Come back to bed, Jen,” Jared says tiredly. “Please.”

Jensen’s lips twitch. He’s not sure he likes the nickname Jared keeps using. It sounds girly. Chris sometimes calls him Jenny when he’s being exceptionally annoying. If Jensen could he’d retort with Christine or Chrissy but instead he just flips Chris the finger or, if he’s really pissed off, shoves him. It’s childish, but so is calling him a nickname Chris knows he hates, so really, it’s his own fault.

Jared says, “Please,” again, and Jensen reluctantly puts his brushes in a jar of turpentine, not caring that it’ll bend the soft hairs. He should clean up, but he’s too tired, so he just rubs at his hands with wet wipes. He’ll shower before going to work tomorrow.

He shivers a little as he crawls under the covers. He’s clammy with cold drying sweat, and his feet and arms feel like ice. Jared spoons up behind him, one arm loose around his chest but it’s still too much, and he goes rigid, his breathing reduced to shallow hitches. Jared instantly lets him go with a quick, “Sorry” and shifts until they’re not touching anymore.

Jensen closes his eyes. ‘ _I’m_ sorry,’ he thinks. ‘I’m the asshole here, not you.’

They lie in silence. The moon shines in through the windows, big, and bright and tragic.

“Is it because...” Jared pauses. Jensen can hear him swallow. “Of what we did?”

Jensen shakes his head. He’s not scared of that, not _specifically_. That’s not why they haven’t... That’s not why. He’s just scared. He’s just so damn _scared_. Of everything. Waiting for something to trigger him, for something to set it off. A sound, a smell, a touch. Anything. _Including_ that.

“Is it me?” Jared asks, his voice shaking a little. “Am I making you worse? Maybe I shouldn’t...”

Jensen rolls over, grabbing Jared by the neck and kissing him hard. Jared lets out a small surprised noise but then he breathes out and kisses back, one large hand loosely cupping the back of Jensen’s head.

‘I love you,’ Jensen tries to say. ‘I’m sorry I scare you so much. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking headcase. I’m sorry I–’ He grits his teeth. Oh. Come. _On_.

“Sshh, it’s all right.” Jared wipes Jensen’s cheek with his thumb, smiling when he gets a scowl in return. “Still hating that whole crying thing, huh?”

Jensen hits Jared half-heartedly in the chest then buries his face in his neck, eyes squeezed shut. Yes, he hates it. He really, really fucking hates it. He’s a grown man for fuck’s sake! It’s humiliating and annoying, and it makes his throat hurt, which he really has enough of already, thank you very much.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, voice serious. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you ask me to. I promise. Okay?”

Jensen nods, forehead still pressing into Jared’s chest. That’s not really the point he was trying to make, but it’s good to know just the same. He slides his hand down to Jared’s hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb over the hipbone. He can feel Jared’s breath brushing his hair, warm and a little erratic. His own breathing is deliberately slow, calculated. He slips his fingers a little lower, but his hand starts trembling, and he pulls back again, clenching his jaw in frustration.

“It’s okay,” Jared whispers. His voice sounds a little strangled. “It’s late and we both need sleep.”

‘It’s not okay,’ Jensen thinks, angry. ‘It’s not fucking okay.’ He sucks in air through his nose, filling his lungs, then grinds his teeth in determination and reaches down, grabbing Jared’s cock.

“Shit! Jensen...”

It’s barely half-hard, so soft and vulnerable in his hand, but all it takes is a couple of strokes, and he can feel it fill into his grip, warm and pulsating. Jared hitches his breath.

“Wait. Jen, you don’t have to–”

Jensen lifts his head, shutting him up with a hard kiss. He’s breathing loudly through his nose, eyes wide open, his heart hammering so hard in his chest it hurts. His movements are erratic, rough, and he keeps losing his rhythm again and again. Jared pulls away from his mouth with a gasp. He tries to grab Jensen’s wrist, but he shakes him off with a growl. He’s gonna do this if it kills him.

“Jensen, come on. Baby, you’re crying. Don’t do this. Don’t... Fuck. Jensen!”

The last word is hardly a whisper, just a soft gasp, and then Jared’s coming, spilling over his fingers. Jensen lets him go abruptly, wiping his hand frantically on the sheet. He’s shaking, tears stinging his eyes, and sweat tickling the back of his neck. He rolls over, sucking in fresh air from the quiet room. Jared is breathing raggedly behind him, and from the bed across the room Chris lets out a snore, too loud to be genuine.

Jensen closes his eyes. Fuck. He’d forgotten they weren’t alone. And now it’s going to be awkward, and Chris is going to want to talk and... Crap.

“Why did you do that?” Jared whispers. He sounds choked up, like he’s close to crying himself. “Shit, Jensen, I didn’t ask you for that. I’m not...” He swallows loudly. “You don’t owe me anything. Don’t you get that? Don’t you get I’m... God.”

Jensen pretends he can’t hear him. He’s still shaking, his breath coming in small cut-off hitches. After a long while Jared sighs, and Jensen can hear him wipe at his nose.

“Get some sleep,” he says in a low voice. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jensen waits until he can hear Jared’s breathing slow down and change into soft snores before he dares opening his eyes. He lies staring out into the dark, waiting.

Nothing happens.

\----------

Jared wakes up to Jensen’s mouth on his dick. He tries to pull away, but Jensen digs his fingers into his thigh and holds him still, an angry growl vibrating around Jared’s cock. It doesn’t take much more than that before he’s coming, gasping Jensen’s name and fumbling for his hand, sleep still muddling his brain. Jensen lets him abruptly go, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with a grimace, and then he’s gone, bathroom door closing behind him. Jared lies staring up at the ceiling, heart hammering in his chest, before slowly sitting up. He hears a noise from the other side of the room and turns his head abruptly, catching Chris slamming his eyes shut. Fuck.

Jared runs a shaky hand over his face then stands up and gets dressed. By the time Jensen gets out of the bathroom, freshly showered and smelling of toothpaste, Jared’s got coffee brewed and ready for him. Jensen nods his thanks and gives Jared a quick kiss before taking the mug over to his easel. He doesn’t look Jared in the eye. Jared leaves as soon as Chris makes a show of pretending to wake up.

 

At The Black Bean at the end of Jensen’s shift Jensen pulls Jared into the back room and jerks him off; Jensen’s palm, sweaty and smelling of coffee, pressed over Jared’s mouth to keep him quiet. Jared’s head bangs against the door when he comes, hard enough that he’s sure everyone in the coffeehouse must have heard. Jared reaches for Jensen to reciprocate but Jensen pulls away, shaking his head, and walks over to the small sink to wash his hands. ‘We need to get going,’ he gestures impatiently, grabbing his jacket and walking out before Jared has time to ask what the hell is going on.

 

On their way home from dinner at Jared’s favorite pizza place Jensen pulls Jared into an alley and pushes him up against the wall. The rough brick scratches Jared’s back as Jensen kisses him roughly, fingers digging into Jared’s biceps and hip pushing against Jared’s dick, hard enough that it almost hurts. They make out, wild and increasingly desperate, until Jensen suddenly pulls away, stumbling and shaking his head, eyes blinking rapidly. Jared only just catches him before he falls.

“Head rush?” he asks, laughing a little. Jensen doesn’t answer, just breathes harshly against Jared’s neck, fists caught in his jacket. A shudder runs through his body, and Jared’s smile drops. “Jensen? Hey, you okay?” Jensen doesn’t look up, just nods his head and hitches his breath. It’s a while before he lets go and all the way home he never looks up once.

When they get to the apartment they’re hardly through the door before Jensen drops to his knees to finish what he started, deft fingers undoing Jared’s fly and pulling him out. Jared tries to tell him he doesn’t have to, that actually he’s pretty tired and how about they just cuddle on the couch, but before he can get a word out his dick is in Jensen’s mouth and... Oh God.

Damn, Jensen is good at this. So fucking amazingly good. Not like Jared, who’s still trying to figure out how not to drool so much.

‘Practice makes perfect’ suddenly pops up in his head, and he squeezes his eyes shut, cold shivers running down his spine. He’s not going there. He’s not going to speculate whether Jensen got his practice blowing strangers in dark alleys all over campus or... or twelve years ago.

Fuck, he didn’t know it was possible to go limp in the middle of a blowjob.

He tries to push Jensen gently away, tries to laugh it off and tell him it’s not gonna happen, not tonight. That he’s tired and spent already and “Let me take care of you instead.” But Jensen swats his hands away, irritated, and keeps at it, not stopping until he has Jared coming down his throat. By then Jared’s knees are weak, and his thighs are shaking with the effort of keeping himself up. Jensen tucks Jared back in and gets slowly to his feet, his knees creaking from the hardwood floor. He doesn’t look up.

It’s not until Jared is drifting off to sleep a couple of hours later that he realizes that all through their various activities that day he never once felt Jensen’s dick press against his.

 

He wakes up to a sense of déjà-vu and hopes Chris really is asleep or over at Sophia’s, because this time he comes so fast he can’t keep a small yell from escaping. He lies, dizzy, his heart still racing, as Jensen disappears into the bathroom. He hears Jensen spit into the toilet, and his whole body flushes red. He feels embarrassed, and confused and so damn ashamed, because Jesus Christ, every time Jensen touches him all angry and desperate like that? Jared just wants to flip him over and fuck the stupid out of him. And how wrong is _that_?

Something bad is clearly going on but every time Jared tries to bring it up during the week Jensen’s on him again, short circuiting Jared’s brain with his hands and lips and mouth. Jared should say no, should tell Jensen to stop, but, God, it’s not like he doesn’t want it. It’s not like Jensen touching him like that isn’t everything he’s ever dreamed of and more. He feels a little like a lab rat though, like Jensen is experimenting on him, testing his own limits. And even if it’s not really that kinky – not compared to most people’s sex lives, Jared presumes – considering where they’re both coming from every step feels like a milestone.

Or it would if Jared didn’t keep waking up in the middle of the night with Jensen’s side of the bed cold and empty, and Jensen standing by the easel, eyes wide and blank as he paints one horrifying picture after another.

\----------

Nothing. Nothing happens. Not a fucking thing. No flashbacks, no memories, no little kid crying for his mommy.

And yet he can’t sleep. He can’t breathe, and he can’t relax, and he can’t let his guard down, because what if? What if this is the time he goes back? What if this is what will trigger him to relive it all? What if?

Fuck.

He can’t do this anymore. He can’t live like this. He can’t.

It’s time he took the reins back. His life. It’s his life. And it’s up to him what happens next. His choice.

\-----------

A shadow falls over the table and Jared looks up, surprised to see Jensen looming over him. It’s the first time Jensen’s ever looked him up at the library. He didn’t even think Jensen knew where he studied.

“Hey,” he says and smiles. “What ya doing here?”

Jensen shrugs, his smile a little uncertain. He looks around, eyeing the other patrons, then brings out two cups of coffee from behind his back.

“Oh God, you’re a lifesaver,” Jared moans, greedily accepting his cup. “This essay is killing me. _Catcher in the Rye_ ,” he explains when Jensen gives him an inquisitive look. “I know it’s supposed to be one of the greatest books of our time but I’m about ready to torch the damn thing.”

Someone shushes them, irritated, and Jared rolls his eyes. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Jensen nods, waiting while Jared puts on his jacket and stuffs the books into his backpack. Jared stops Jensen as he’s turning away and pulls him in for a deep kiss. “Always wanted to make out in a library,” he says, grinning when Jensen’s cheeks turn a little pink. “Maybe we can ask Danneel to let us in sometime after closing. Then I can have my wicked way with you in the periodicals.”

Jensen snorts, bumping his shoulder not too lightly. Jared just grins.

They walk out into the bright sun reflecting off the newborn snow, breathing in the cold air. “Didn’t know you were done this early. You could have texted,” Jared says, slinging one arm over Jensen’s shoulders. “I’d have come over.”

Jensen bites his lip. He taps a finger on his watch then shakes his head as he draws a circle on the surface.

“You weren’t working today?” Jared asks, frowning. “Is everything alright?”

Jensen shakes his head. He sucks in his breath then lets it slowly out, looking around until he spots a bench by the trees that someone has already cleared the snow off and pulls Jared over. They sit down, and Jensen puts his coffee cup down on the ground before pulling a sketchbook out of his pocket, pen clipped to its side.

Jared sips his coffee as he waits for Jensen to finish, pretending not to notice how shaky Jensen’s movements are. It’s a quick sketch of a woman sitting in a chair. She seems to be writing something. Jared frowns, completely clueless. Jensen huffs and takes the notebook back, this time adding a simple sketch of a man lying on a couch. Oh.

“Therapy? You want to go see a therapist? Psychologist? Psychiatrist? Okay. Do you have a psychiatrist?”

Jensen shakes his head. He looks tired, and when Jared puts an arm around his shoulders Jensen leans into him, his breathing labored.

“We’ll find someone. If this is what you want to do then we’ll find someone.” Jared hesitates, searching Jensen’s face for hints of what he’s thinking. Jensen looks at him with weary eyes. There’s a lump in Jared’s throat, and a feeling of hope he doesn’t dare give in to, not without confirmation. “Does that mean...? Are you planning on sticking around?”

Jensen closes his eyes and lays his head on Jared’s shoulder. He nods.

Jared breathes out. “Thank you,” he chokes out. “I... Thank you.”

Jensen doesn’t answer. His eyes are still closed, his coffee is going cold where it’s nested in the snow-covered ground. He looks so tired, so defeated. Like he really doesn’t expect anything to come out of it, but he’s still going to try. For Jared.

“Thank you,” Jared repeats in a whisper, pulling Jensen tighter. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Jensen sucks in his breath. He turns his head and buries his face in Jared’s neck, his breath hot on Jared’s cold skin. Jared kisses the top of his head and just holds him. They sit there until Jared’s butt goes numb, and Jensen falls asleep on his shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

_ April 2006 _

__

 

_“Jensen.”_

_Jensen ignores him in favor of counting. Thirty times on each side. Outer, inner. Upper, lower. Back, front. The toothpaste is cinnamon flavored. He prefers mint._

_“He’s a dickhead. Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know jackshit.”_

_Jensen spits in the sink. It spatters pink and his gag reflex spasms as bile rises in his throat. Chris quickly reaches around him to turn on the faucet, splashing the water around until everything’s swirled down the drain and the porcelain is sparkly white again._

_“Breathe. Jensen, breathe! Like that. Good. Keep going. Better?”_

_He nods. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the... In... In... In through the nose, out through the mouth._

_“It was a little flirt, man. That’s what normal people do, they flirt and kiss and make out and even have sex. That’s what everyone does. You smiled at him. That’s all. It doesn’t make you a slut, okay?”_

_Jensen shakes his head. He knows. Of course he knows. He’s seventeen for fuck’s sake. He’s probably the only one in his class not having sex yet._

_Yet..._

_“Oh Jesus, Jensen. Head between your knees, come on. Shh, shh. Like that. Fuck, boy, why you gotta make your life so goddamn difficult?”_

_Jensen doesn’t know. He really wishes he did. He really wishes he could just_ fix _this._

 

\------------

Present day

Once the decision had been made, Jensen expected to feel better. But the truth is he just feels more on edge. He hated therapy as a kid, hated it even more when he grew older. Such a waste of time. The thought of going back is enough to make his skin crawl.

His old therapist kept trying to make him talk. She even bribed him, promising him candy and ice cream and once a trip to Disneyland if he just opened his mouth and said some words. She really must have thought he was stupid. As if his parents would ever let him go to Disneyland. That place is crawling with pedophiles; he’d heard them say so more than once.

As the years went by her bribes turned into pleas that again turned into mild threats and attempted guilt trips. “How do you expect to get on in life if you won’t talk?” and “Don’t you understand how much this hurts your mother?” Every session had revolved around those stupid words, as if everything would be okay if he just started talking. Like that was all that was wrong with him, his refusal to speak. Because that’s how they all saw it. That it was his choice. Even when he was coughing and choking, tears springing to his eyes, they shook their heads and looked at him, all sad eyes and disappointment. He disappointed them. He was a disappointment. He was supposed to get better.

“We’ve tried everything. Why is he not talking?”

And the answer they got was that the doctors, the therapists, the hypnotist, the endless row of people falling over themselves trying to help their son were doing everything right. It wasn’t _their_ fault nothing worked.

Jensen knows there’s nothing physically wrong with his throat. He knows there isn’t a wall on his tongue, or a tie on his vocal cords. There’s no logical explanation for why he can’t talk. None at all. It’s all in his head. His screwed-up, crazy, fucking head. So maybe they’re right. Maybe it is his fault. Maybe he is doing this to himself. But then why can’t he tell himself to stop? Why can’t he decide ‘This is it, from now on I’m talking, screw this mutism shit?’ Because he wants to. God help him, he does. He wants to be able to just open his fucking mouth and tell Jared everything he feels, everything he’s thinking. Pour his heart out no matter how pathetic, and girly and embarrassing it would be. If it meant he’d hold on to Jared, he’d do it, no hesitation. But he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. And where does that fit into their stupid Munchausen theory?

\-----------

Chris hangs up with a curse before looking over, shaking his head in defeat. Another dead end. They all want referrals, or they’re booked solid, or they’re charging through the roof.

Jared strikes over the last name on their list, pursing his lips in thought. “I know someone who might be able to help. Remember Mike, the guy who gave us a ride at Halloween?” He pretends not to notice the way Jensen stiffens. “He’s a psych grad student. He must know people, or at least know where to look for them.” Jared looks up, fixing his eyes on an irritated Jensen. “Most important thing is we find someone you like. Someone who understands where you’re coming from, and who you feel comfortable with.”

Jensen rolls his eyes in a typical ‘Whatever’ fashion and stands up, jaw tight. He walks over to the kitchen, picking up his sketchbook and pencil on the way and settles down by the kitchen table, his back turned, shoulders and neck taut with tension. He looks like he’s already regretting the whole thing.

Jared gives Chris a questioning look. He shrugs. “Don’t take it personally. We talked about him going back some weeks ago, and he wasn’t too enthusiastic to tell the truth. He’s always hated therapy.” He glances over at Jensen then adds in a low voice, “If he told you he wants to go back I think that says a lot about how scared he is.”

“Why did he stop going in the first place?” Jared asks just as quietly.

“Money, mostly. Part time work don’t pay much.” Chris sighs. “I’ve told him I’ll help pay for it, but he just... He won’t. Damn stubborn when he wants to be. Which is pretty much all the time.” He looks over at Jensen again, this time with a fond smile. “I wouldn’t mind. It’s the best investment I can think of.”

Jared nods. There’s something bothering him that he’s not sure how to tiptoe around, so finally he just throws it out there. “His parents won’t help? Where are they anyway?”

Chris’s smile drops. “Still back home in Texas. They call but... Hard to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t talk back.”

“They don’t visit? Or send him money?”

“They had a disagreement,” Chris says, voice blank. “Didn’t like him living so far away. They wanted him close, so they could keep an eye on him. Said if he wanted to be here he’d be on his own.” He shrugs at Jared’s stunned expression. “Don’t think they expected him to stick with it, honestly. It’s been a year, and they’re still waiting for him to give up and come home. He won’t. As long as he has enough money for coffee and art supplies, he’s content.”

“But...” Jared says bewildered, “doesn’t he miss them? They’re his family.”

Chris looks at him. His eyes are tired and sad, and there’s something there that Jared can’t quite understand. “He doesn’t care, Jared. He doesn’t care about anyone, hasn’t done since... Since it happened. He doesn’t feel stuff like that.”

Jared blinks. It echoes Mike’s words from a few weeks back, but it’s still a shock, hearing Chris confirm it. “But...”

“Except you,” Chris quickly clarifies. “He cares about you. I don’t know how you did that, but somehow you made him care. I’d say you’re the only person he cares about in the whole world.” And there’s that look again. That sad look of resignation.

“That’s not true,” Jared says flustered. “He loves you, man. You’re his best friend.”

Chris smiles a little and shakes his head. “He needs me but he doesn’t really care about me.” He shrugs when Jared stares at him. “It’s okay. I care enough for the both of us.”

Jared shakes his head, bewildered. “How can you...? I don’t get it. How does that even work?”

“I don’t know. It just does. Sophia says it’s maternal. Or paternal, whatever,” Chris says, frowning in thought. “Like with babies. You have a baby, and you love it more than anything, right? You’d give your life for it, easily. But to the baby you’re just a warm, nice-smelling person that takes care of it. You’re safety. It doesn’t love you, because it doesn’t know what love is, not yet. It will, later. Later it will realize you’re its dad or mom, and it will love you almost as much as you love it. But until then it’s all on you.” He sighs. “Jensen had his later, and then it was taken away from him. He hasn’t been able to find his way back there.”

“Shit. That’s... That’s fucking tragic.”

Chris shrugs. “It is what it is.” He looks back at Jared, tilting his head a little. “Then you came along. And now everything is changing.”

“I’m never sure if you mean that as a good or a bad thing,” Jared confesses.

Chris chuckles. It sounds tired. “Honestly, I’m not too sure myself.”

They both look up when Jensen comes back, a pile of drawings in his hands. He lays them out like cards, like the panels of a comic book. There’s Jared on the phone to a faceless person whose talk bubble shows a woman writing in a notebook. Jensen, working at The Black Bean. A pile of money. A group of people Jared doesn’t recognize with a big question mark hanging over them.

Jensen clears his throat but gives up after a while, sighing in frustration. He points at the drawing of Jared on the phone before giving him an impatient look.

“You want me to call Mike, ask him for help? Okay, I’ll do that. See what he says.”

Jensen nods. He points at the drawing of himself then the one of the pile of money and looks over at Jared again.

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/251396/251396_original.jpg)

“You want extra work to make more money?” Chris asks. Jensen nods again. “I’ll talk to Sophia. See if she can swing something. It would probably be the morning shifts on weekends then, you know. Not exactly your favorites.” Jensen grimaces but shrugs, indicating if that’s what he has to do then so be it. He points at the last picture.

Jared frowns. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s Jensen’s family,” Chris butts in. “You’re thinking of asking them for help, is that it? In case you can’t cut it.”

Jensen looks grim, like there’s nothing he’d like less, but he points back at the money and sighs.

“Dude, I’ve told you,” Chris says exasperated. “I can help you pay for therapy. I want to.”

Jensen shakes his head, mouth set in a stubborn line.

“They’ll want you to come home, you know that. You don’t want to go back to Texas, do you?”

Jensen looks troubled for a moment, but then his face brightens, and he looks over at Jared, grinning.

“Me? Me what? Talk to them? You want _me_ to talk to them?” Jared stares at him, incredulous. “Jensen, they have no idea who I am.”

But Chris looks over at him, thoughtful. “Tell them,” he says. “Jensen is right. They’ll be ecstatic.”

Jensen grins and wags his eyebrows as he rubs his fingers together, clearly thinking that happy people are more likely to part with their money.

Jared only feels more confused. “They’ll be happy about you having a boyfriend? You’re joking, right?”

Jensen shakes his head, his smile turning soft. He points at Jared then himself then lays his hand over his heart. Jared swallows. He thinks he gets it, the gist of it anyway. It’s just hard for him to imagine any parents thinking their son being in a relationship with another guy is better than him being a lonely heartless cynic.

“He’s right,” Chris says. “I don’t think you realize how huge this is. They won’t care that you’re a guy. They’ll probably be relieved you’re big and strong enough to take care of yourself, considering what a complete asshole Jensen can be.”

Jensen flips him the finger, scowling, but he doesn’t exactly argue.

“Okay,” Jared says, even if the thought alone is enough to make him feel slightly nauseated. He couldn’t even come clean with his own parents so how’s this gonna work? “I’ll give it a shot. But if they hate me that’s all on you.”

Jensen just rolls his eyes.

 

Fifteen minutes later Jared’s in the bathroom, the only place of privacy in the apartment, dialing the number to Jensen’s parents while trying not to throw up. Why on earth did he agree to do this? No chance in Hell this will go well.

“Yea’ello?” a deep voice says. The familiar twang hits Jared straight in the heart. This is what Jensen would sound like if he talked normally.

He swallows. “Mr. Ackles? You don’t know me but I’m a friend of Jensen’s.”

“Is he all right?” The voice on the other end of the line is instantly on alert, the tone tight with worry. Somehow it’s not at all what Jared imagined. “Where’s Chris?”

“Jensen is fine,” Jared hurries to assure him. “And Chris is right here, in the other room. They’re both fine, sir, I promise.”

Jensen’s father breathes out in obvious relief. “Thank God. Who did you say you were?”

Jared hesitates. It’s not like he can just say, ‘I’m Jensen’s boyfriend, and I want you to give him money for therapy.’ He has to find a nicer, subtler approach. Get in on their good side. Which is easier said than done, considering he doesn’t even know if they _have_ a good side.

“My name is Jared Padalecki,” he finally starts. “Jensen wanted to tell you something and... Well, he’s not the most articulate person there is.” He slips a smile into his voice, and it seems to work, because the man chuckles although it sounds slightly pained.

“You could say that,” he agrees. “If silence really was golden we’d be millionaires by now.”

Jared breathes out a small laugh of his own. “Yeah. Anyway, he really wanted to tell you himself, but seeing as he can’t, he asked me to do it for him.”

“You’re kinda scaring me here, son,” Jensen’s dad says warily.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t...” Jared swallows. “This is a bit awkward for me. See, I’m his boyfriend.” He holds his breath.

“You’re his... Jensen has a boyfriend?”

"What?" Jared hears a female voice say in the background. "Jensen? Our Jensen?"

“Uhm, yes?” Jared says then realizes that doesn’t sound very convincing. “We’ve been going out for a couple of months now. He’s... pretty amazing.” He laughs, embarrassed by the heat firing up in his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m just...” The man clears his throat. “It’s quite a shock.”

Jared closes his eyes. Shit. “I’m sorry. You didn’t know he was gay?”

“Oh no, we knew. We just never expected...” The man breathes out. “Jared, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Jared Padalecki.”

“Is it... Is it serious?”

Jared smiles. “I’d say that, yes. I’m kinda stupidly in love with him.”

“But he...” Jensen’s dad audibly swallows. “Do you know about... about what happened to him?”

The smile drops. “Yes.”

“Then you know he’s... he’s never gotten over it. Never. He never will, do you realize that? He will never be okay.” The man chokes on the last word, like he’s only a breath away from crying.

“He’s doing a lot better,” Jared says quickly. “He talks, not much but a few words. He laughs, and he smiles, and, and he cries,” he adds awkwardly, remembering Chris’s astonishment. “Nothing serious, he just thought I’d broken up with him. Which I hadn’t. It was just a stupid misunderstanding.”

Jensen’s father hitches his breath. “He’s never cried. He’s never... I don’t get it. This is... You say you love him, but does _he_ love _you_? Does he?”

“Yes, sir, he does,” Jared says firmly. It doesn’t matter that Jensen has never been able to say it out loud, he’s told him enough times just by looking at him. “I believe he loves me very much.”

Jared sits down on the toilet and rests his head in his hand as he listens to Jensen’s father cry. He can hear a woman’s voice in the background asking what’s wrong, and if Jensen is all right and "Alan, please, talk to me." He thinks about these people that have been through so much and obviously love Jensen more than anything and desperately want him to be happy, and Jensen... Jensen doesn’t even care. At all. He doesn’t care that he’s making his father cry by showing just an inkling of real emotions. He doesn’t care that his mother is worried sick that something is wrong. The only reason Jared is even talking to them is because he’s trying to weasel money out of them. He feels suddenly deeply ashamed. What the hell is he doing?

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know.”

“You didn’t–” The voice breaks off. “God. Donna?” Alan says helplessly. There’s a noise and then Jensen’s mother comes on the phone.

“Hello,” she says. “Jared, right?” Her voice shakes, but it’s friendly and warm, and Jared suddenly feels like crying himself.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just...”

“Jared, listen to me. Stop worrying. We’re not upset, we’re just a bit overwhelmed.” She laughs, a shaky laughter that sounds closer to crying. “It’s not every day you hear your son has reclaimed his heart.”

Jared swallows. “He’s still a giant jerk if that helps any,” he jokes, and she starts laughing.

“Yes, that does sound like my son.” She sniffles a little then sucks in her breath and asks, “So why did he really want you to call? Because I know my son, and he couldn’t care less what we thought about his love life.”

Damn. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says gently. “Just tell me.”

Jared hesitates. “He wants to go back to therapy, but he can’t afford it. He needs your help.”

“But he hated therapy,” she says confused. “Why would he–” She hitches her breath. “Oh God. Did something happen?”

“No, no. Not... Well, maybe. We’re not sure.” Jared pauses. “We think he might be starting to remember what happened those weeks he was gone.”

She makes a small noise, like a wounded animal. “No, no. That’s not possible. Not now. No. It was too long ago.”

Oh shit. That doesn’t sound good. “Mrs. Ackles,” Jared says carefully, “I know this must be very hard for you, but I need... I need to know what to expect if–”

“No,” she says more firmly this time. “You must be mistaken. No.”

Jared swallows. “Jensen is terrified. He has very specific ideas about what might have happened to him, and he is really, really scared, ma’am. He says if he starts having flashbacks of, of rape he’s not gonna... He can’t... He says he’ll kill himself.” There’s that small noise again. It hits Jared like a punch in the heart. “I think... I think he really means it, and it scares the hell out of me. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me. Was there any...? Is he right, is that what...?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

Jared closes his eyes. Oh God. “There was evidence that...?”

“Yes.”

Oh Jesus. “And you never told him.”

Her breath hitches. “How could we? He was ten years old! He was just a little boy. And he was so, so broken. My baby.” She makes that small noise again, and Jared’s eyes tear up. “What would have been the use anyway? He didn’t remember! It was a gift. Do you understand? It was a gift from God.”

Jared swallows. “I understand, I do. It’s just... He’s not stupid, ma’am. He was held hostage for three weeks by a sex offender, a period his brain has deemed too traumatic for him to remember. It’s not that hard for him to put two and two together.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she sobs. “I can’t... I know he doesn’t care about us but we love him. We love him so much. He’s our son. And I can’t... I can’t.”

She starts to cry, and Jared feels like the biggest asshole on earth. He has no idea what to do. Fuck.

“We’re looking around for a psychiatrist right now,” he says quietly. “I won’t tell Jensen the truth unless it’s deemed safe, I promise. But if that’s what he needs to know to be able to deal with this then I have to. Do you understand?”

“No. No, I don’t understand. Why does he have to know? If he doesn’t remember...”

“Ma’am, if he starts getting flashbacks he’ll be dealing with what happened to him as a ten-year-old, not as an adult. It would break him.” She starts crying again and Jared rubs a hand over his face. “I want to protect that little boy just as much as you do. If he has to face what happened to him, isn’t it better he does it when he’s within his right mind?”

There’s a long silence only broken by the sound of her trying to compose herself. “Yes,” she finally whispers. “Yes, it’s... You’re right.”

Jared breathes out. “Thank you. I promise, we’ll take every precaution but... I need your help. He can’t afford it, and I’m on a scholarship here and Chris is struggling and... I hate to ask this, but Jensen needs you to help him out.”

“He’d been going to the same psychiatrist here ever since... since it happened. But then he insisted on going away, and his father got angry and...” She takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. “Of course. Of course we will. We’ll pay for everything.”

“Donna...” A tired voice says in the background.

“No! You listen to me this time. We’re not dragging him back here when he’s finally found someone. We’re going to do the best we can to make sure he stays as happy as possible.”

“All right, honey. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Sshh, don’t cry.”

Jared closes his eyes, waiting while Jensen’s father calms his wife down. He feels like he just reached into these people’s lives and clawed their souls open, bringing all the hurt and painful memories back to the surface. And what for? So he can tell Jensen he was raped as a child? What good can ever come out of this?

Jensen’s dad comes back on the phone, and they make arrangements in quiet subdued voices, both feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Jared thanks him and asks him again to forgive him for intruding and for upsetting both of them. “I’m really, really sorry about all of this.”

“Son, don’t. Just take care of our boy and – not that I suppose he will care – but please tell him we love him, and that we miss him, and that’s he’s welcome home whenever he wants to visit. And that we’d love to come see him if he’ll have us.”

Jared swallows. “I will. Thank you. For everything.”

“No, thank you. You have no idea what it means to us to know he has you. It’s a miracle in itself.”

\----------

Jared’s been in the bathroom for a long time, but Jensen isn’t worried. Jared is good at talking to people. He always sounds very sympathetic and sincere, and you can tell he means it, that he’s not faking.

Chris on the other hand is pacing the floor, looking like he’s ready to storm the bathroom if Jared doesn’t come out soon. Every now and then he stops, looking over at Jensen, all worried and stressed. Jensen ignores him.

When Jared finally comes out his eyes are rimmed red, and he looks pale and worn. Like he would love nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week.

Anger flares up in Jensen’s chest. What the hell did his parents say to make Jared look like that? He thought they were okay with him being gay – not that he’d care if they weren’t – but maybe that only applied as long as there was no one else to take it out on. As if Jared hasn’t suffered enough with his own homophobic Jesus fanatic family. Maybe Jensen should ask Chris to tell his parents about the blowjob adventures. Might help them put things in perspective.

Pushing his anger aside for now he stands up and walks over, giving Jared a kiss and a questioning look.

Jared nods, face oddly blank. “They’re paying,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jensen shrugs. He wasn’t worried, not really.

“They said hi,” Jared says quietly. “And to tell you they love you.”

Jensen nods, indifferent. He knows his parents love him. It used to make him angry, that they’d let all those bad things happen to him and then still claimed they loved him. Didn’t matter that he knew they didn’t _make_ them happen, he still thought they should have done a better job of protecting him. He’s not mad at them anymore. He doesn’t feel anything about them really. He couldn’t care less if he never saw them again. They have Josh and Mac to give them what he can’t. They’ll both get married and give his parents grandchildren and play the role of Perfect Family, and in time everyone will forget about Jensen, the freak son. The sooner the better.

He stiffens when Jared suddenly pulls him into a hug, arms so tight around him he can feel himself start to panic. He’s about to shove Jared violently away when he feels it. A subtle tremor running through Jared’s body. Like he’s trying so hard and still failing not to cry.

Just like that Jensen’s own panic disappears. He puts his arms around Jared, running his fingers up his back and into his hair, carding through the sweat-damp tangles. ‘Sshh,’ he wants to say and ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘I’m here’ and ‘Talk to me.’ And ‘I’ll kill them for hurting you!’ He runs his knuckles over Jared’s spine, so strong and still so easily bent. ‘They’re just words,’ he wants to say. ‘Good-for-nothing words. They don’t mean jack shit.’

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Jared mumbles, sucking in air through his nose. “I’m okay.” He pulls back and gives Jensen a small shaky smile. “Guess I’m just missing my folks,” he says, but his eyes shift away as his breath hitches, and Jensen is way too good at reading people’s expressions to fall for the lie.

He doesn’t push it though, just pulls Jared down for a kiss before letting him go with a pat on the back. He turns around to find Chris watching them. He looks worried, anxious even, but as he makes as if to say something Jensen sees out of the corner of his eye Jared give him a subtle shake of his head, and just like that Chris snaps his mouth shut. Jensen shoots Jared a sharp look, but he just gazes back, looking far too tired to be contemplating anything more sinister than where to lay his head to rest.

They order take-out, and Jared falls asleep on the couch, head in Jensen’s lap. Jensen lets him sleep until the food arrives, ignoring the way Chris keeps fidgeting in the chair like he’s itching to do something, Jensen doesn’t know what. Maybe he’s wondering if he can leave them to meet up with Sophia. They’ve gone out a few times. and Chris always comes home grinning like an idiot and smelling like her. It’s irritating, but Jensen doesn’t say anything. He’s trying to be a better person. Not a jerk. Even if it means pretending he doesn’t care that Chris is spending so much time with someone else. Not that he really does care. He has Jared now. If Chris wants to abandon ship and shack up with Sophia instead Jensen doesn’t care. He doesn’t care one bit.

He gets up to go to the bathroom sometime during the second half of Survivor, and when he comes back Jared has his eyes closed again, and Chris’s chair is empty. He hears a strange sound coming from outside, like a dog whimpering, but when Jensen moves to the window to investigate, Jared is suddenly behind him, kissing his neck and running his big hands down Jensen’s hips, light and careful the way he always does.

“Can we go to bed?” he whispers. “I want to make you feel good.”

His voice breaks a little on the last word, but when Jensen turns around to see what’s wrong Jared catches his face in his hands, and then they’re kissing the way they haven’t done in weeks. It’s hot, and deep, and hungry and has Jensen’s head going light as the blood in his veins rushes downwards. He grabs Jared’s arms for support, pushing his hips forward, and it’s as if Jared can read his mind, because his thigh comes up, allowing Jensen to ride it until he’s moaning into Jared’s mouth and hitching his breath.

“Bed,” Jared mumbles, and Jensen comes along easily, letting Jared push him down on the bed and closing his eyes as Jared works his jeans open and pulls them down. He thinks he hears Jared hitching his breath, but it gets lost in the wonderful sensation of a warm mouth swallowing him down.

Jared’s hands are running up his thighs, thumbs stroking over his hipbones so softly, like he’s caressing a kitten. His nostrils whistle as he breathes out, air rushing through Jensen’s treasure trail. Jensen lets out a strangled sound in the back of his throat. It sounds like a sob even if he doesn’t mean it to be, and Jared is instantly there, kissing his lips, his cheeks, the slope of his neck.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jared whispers, his voice sounding oddly choked. “I’ll never hurt you.” His cheek brushes Jensen’s nose and wetness smears over his skin. Jensen groans, squeezing his eyes tighter shut in embarrassment. He didn’t even notice he was crying this time. No wonder Jared sounds so worried.

‘I’m okay,’ he wants to say. ‘It’s nothing. Stop worrying and get on with it.’

Jared kisses him again, on the lips this time. He tastes salty, like precome and tears, and Jensen kisses him back hard, fucking his tongue into Jared’s mouth to let him know how much he wants this. Jared lets out a startled ‘oomph,’ and then he laughs a little, kissing Jensen back, his nose sliding wetly over Jensen’s cheek.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes, “I get the message.” By the time Jensen opens his eyes Jared is already halfway down the bed, kissing his way down Jensen’s chest. His lips feel hot to the touch, almost feverish, and Jensen’s eyes slide shut again as his cock is once again enveloped in the wet silky heat of Jared’s mouth.

It’s all still so new to him that it doesn’t take him long before he’s coming with a strangled cry and his fingers tangled in Jared’s hair. Jared crawls up the bed and lies down beside him, burrowing his face in Jensen’s neck. His breathing is shallow and erratic, his hand damp with sweat where it rests on Jensen’s chest. When Jensen gets his breath back and reaches down to return the favor, Jared moves his hips away and shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m good.”

Jensen hums, feeling too wiped out to wonder about Jared’s cock brushing soft and vulnerable against his hand.

\---------

 

Jared watches Jensen work behind the counter as his own coffee cools in the mug in front of him. He’s finding it harder and harder to take his eyes off Jensen, like ever. It’s like watching an answer to a math problem that shouldn’t add up. He’s read the statistics, knows the numbers. Every fifth girl he sees, every seventh boy he smiles at. Sexually abused. Raped. Which makes the potential number of abusers alarming. The guy selling papers on the corner. His English lit professor. His best friend’s dad. Any one of them is a candidate. Not like they have RAPIST or CHILD MOLESTER tattooed onto their forehead. The fact is, there is no way to tell. And that just freaks him the fuck out. How? How is it possible? How can people do something like that? How can they live with themselves? And how, how on earth do the children survive it?

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how a child can be hurt, and abused and terrorized like that, can have its whole childhood ripped apart by monsters, and not spend the rest of its life screaming its head off in a padded cell. He thinks if someone had done something like that to him that’s where he’d have ended up. So where do they get their strength from to carry on?

Jensen’s mother had called it a gift from God that Jensen couldn’t remember what had been done to him. Jared isn’t sure about the God thing – he thinks if there really was a God he should make damn sure things like that didn’t happen to innocent children in the first place – but he can’t help agreeing with her in hoping that Jensen never gets his memories back. So far there’s nothing that suggests he will, not in the near future anyway. He hasn’t had any flashbacks or regression spells since that day in the dorm. No little kid spilling secrets into Jared’s ear or leaking them into Jensen’s mind. For all they know the kid might never resurface. That still doesn’t change the fact that Jensen is clearly terrified he might, and that fear is slowly but surely crippling him.

“You good?” someone says and Jared looks up to find Chris standing by his table, wet rag in his hand.

“Good enough. How you feeling?” Jared asks back.

Chris shrugs. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept for a week. As hard as it is for Jared to accept what he knows now, it’s clearly hell on Chris. Probably because he still remembers the little boy Jensen was back then. And even if Chris always suspected, having it confirmed clearly has shaken him up more than he anticipated. Jared can’t even imagine how Jensen’s parents must feel. How do you deal with knowing your child has been abused in the most horrible way imaginable?

“Your friend find a shrink for Jensen yet?”

Jared shakes his head. “He’s working on it. Turns out Jensen is a bit too special for most people to handle.”

“Tell me about it,” Chris snorts. “Like his old psychiatrist, I’m sure she was a nice lady and all, but I think Jensen frustrated the hell out of her. Her list of diagnostics probably got as long as my arm.”

His smile drops. He taps his fingers on the table, scowling a little. “They wouldn’t tell me anything, you know. His parents. They were happy with me looking after the guy, but when I tried to get some answers they always shot me down. I tried talking to his shrink, and she claimed confidentiality. Of what? His silence? It really pissed me off. And it really fucking pisses me off that they knew all along what was done to him, and no one told me. No one!”

Jared stays silent. He doesn’t know what to say.

“What if he’d started getting flashbacks from that?” Chris rages on. “What was I supposed to do if he went fucking crazy on me, because inside his head he was being raped, and he couldn’t even let me know? Seriously, what the hell were they thinking?”

“I think they were in denial,” Jared says quietly. “Wouldn’t you be if that was your kid?”

Chris clenches his jaw. “Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. It’s still fucking stupid.”

He makes a show of wiping Jared’s table, eyes shooting to Jensen as if he’s afraid he might overhear them. Thankfully Jensen is busy wrapping a sandwich for a pretty blond girl with a very generous chest. She keeps giving him obvious flirty smiles that Jensen pointedly ignores.

“I need to go on a supply run. You gonna stay here for a while?”

Jared nods. Where else?

“Good. Keep an eye on him. He’s way too quiet.” Chris gives Jared a sharp look. “He speaking to you?”

Jared shakes his head. “No, not a word. Been almost two weeks.” He tries to make it sound casual, but he can’t hide the hurt, and Chris gives him a sympathetic look.

“He does this sometimes. Weeks, even months, where he won’t–” Chris stops, his cheeks flushing red. “I mean where he can’t speak. Don’t worry too much about it.” He smiles, but it’s far from reassuring. “You have my number if anything happens.”

Jared nods. He watches Chris walk behind the counter and hang up his apron before saying something to Jensen who just nods and shrugs annoyed when Chris lays a hand on his shoulder. Chris steps, back but Jared can see hurt flash quickly across his face before it settles on the trademark grumpy scowl. He gets his jacket out of the back room, and then he’s gone, the sound of his truck growling to life outside and then fading away.

Jared sighs. He sips his coffee. He flips idly through his book and wonders if Jensen and Chris do anything special for Thanksgiving, and whether he can invite himself over without being too obvious. He purposefully doesn’t think of his family, and what they might say about him, when faced with his empty seat at the Thanksgiving table. Maybe they won’t say anything at all. Maybe they’ll just remove one chair, so it won’t be as noticeable that he’s missing.

Jared shakes his head and quickly moves his thoughts to Jensen’s family instead. He wonders what their holidays were like. What the hell do you give thanks for, when your child’s been traumatized beyond repair? ‘Thank you, Lord, for taking away our son’s horrible memories. Too bad you had to take away his heart as well. His emotions, his happiness, his chance of ever having a goddamn normal life. Not like you’re omnipotent or anything. You fucking useless _asshole_!’

Someone clears their throat and Jared jerks out of his thoughts, looking up to find Mike gazing down at him, clearly worried by whatever he sees in Jared’s startled eyes. Jared averts his gaze and slips his hands under the table, uncurling his fists and forcing his jaw to unclench. His molars ache from biting down too hard. He breathes out then looks up again, forcing a smile.

“Please tell me you found someone,” he says, not bothering with a hello.

Mike slides into the booth. “I found someone.”

Jared lays his head down on the table, breathing out in relief. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

He lifts his head to find Mike watching him with sympathetic and worried eyes. “You look like shit,” he says, and Jared can’t help laughing.

“Thank you. That’s... always nice to hear.”

Mike smiles. “Sorry. Apparently my bedside manners leave something to be desired.” His face turns serious again. “Are you taking care of yourself? Eating, sleeping, not worrying about Jensen twenty-four seven?”

“I’m fine,” Jared dismisses, silently ticking off ‘trying’, ‘occasionally’, ‘sometimes’ and ‘you’re kidding, right?’ in his head. “Tell me who you found.”

Mike holds his gaze a little longer before giving in with a sigh. “Her name is Samantha Ferris, she specializes in sexual abuse victims, mainly children, _and_ she uses art therapy.”

Jared blinks. “Okay, that sounds pretty much perfect. What’s the catch?”

Mike smiles. “No catch. I hadn’t considered her because I thought she lived up in Canada these days but turns out she moved back here last spring. So I called her, and of course she’s booked solid, but I explained Jensen’s case, and she’s intrigued. She wants to meet him and then...” He shrugs. “We’ll see what happens.”

Jared nods. He looks down, biting his lip.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks, reaching over to grab his hand. “Jared?”

“Sorry, I’m just...” He lets out a small shaky laugh. “It’s been really…” He stops again, unable to go on.

“I can imagine,” Mike says gently, rubbing a thumb over Jared’s clenched knuckles. “You’re going to be all right, Jared.”

Jared sniffles and nods. “Yeah. Of course.”

A shadow falls over the table, and Jared looks up to find Jensen looming over them, looking really pissed off, until he sees the tears in Jared’s eyes. The scowl drops instantly, and he’s sliding into the booth by Jared’s side, hand on his neck, searching his eyes for answers.

“I’m okay,” Jared says, managing a smile. He pulls his hand away from Mike’s comforting grip and drops it in his lap, laying his other hand reassuringly on Jensen’s thigh. “Guess what,” he says in a bright voice, “Mike found you a psychiatrist.”

Jensen turns to Mike in question, eyebrows raised, facial expression a mixture of dread and hope.

Mike repeats what he told Jared, writing down the woman’s name as well as the time and place for his appointment. “I gave her a brief summary of what’s going on, but you’re the one she wants to talk to. You need to make an effort, okay?”

Jensen’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening in irritation.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mike says impatiently. “I’m not saying you need to speak, but you need to be willing to communicate somehow. More than that, you need to be willing to open up.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. He tilts his head, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrow in a perfect image of annoyance. Jared laughs.

“I think he means to say he wouldn’t have asked you to find someone if he wasn’t planning on working with them,” he explains with a smile that widens when Jensen nods, looking smug, like the proud owner of a talented dog.

“Smartass,” Mike mutters, which only makes Jared grin wider. “I mean it though. She’s using her private time for this, because she wants to help you.”

Jensen gives him a patient look. He grabs a napkin and pulls the pen from behind his ear, frowning in concentration before writing ‘MY CHOIC’ with crooked letters. He shows it to Mike, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know. And you’re right, that makes a difference. Just don’t forget that,” Mike tells him.

A loud ping breaks the start of a stubborn staring match and Jensen looks over at the counter. There are three people waiting for service, one of them looking really pissed off. He slams his hand down on the bell again, giving Jensen an angry glare. “Hey, you! Deaf guy!”

Jared stiffens, his hand gripping Jensen’s thigh tight but Jensen just rolls his eyes and turns to give Jared a long, hard kiss, no hurry at all, before sliding out of the booth.

“It’s about time,” the guy spits out. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes.”

More like one maybe, Jared thinks, watching closely in case the guy tries anything. But Jensen just gets behind the counter and looks up at the guy with a bored expression.

“Cappuccino. And hurry.” The guy turns to the other two waiting, both of them looking extremely uncomfortable with the whole charade, and rolls his eyes with an angry sneer. “Fucking retard,” he says, and Jared is halfway out of the booth when Mike grabs him by the wrist, stopping him.

“Let Jensen handle it,” he says quietly. “You’re just gonna piss him off if you start a fight.”

“But that asshole...”

“Is about to get the worst cappuccino in the history of coffee making,” Mike says patiently. “I’m betting half a cup of coffee grinds, and a mouthful of spit in the foam.” He looks over at Jensen, smiling a little. “I’m telling you. I’ve been coming here for a long time. No one knows how to handle asshole customers like Jensen. Guaranteed to never return.” Mike turns back to Jared, eyeing him with sympathy. “He doesn’t care what people say, Jared. It doesn’t bother him.”

“That still doesn’t make it right,” Jared argues. “You don’t talk to people like that.”

“Of course not but–”

“What do I have to pay for this shit then?” the guy says loudly and both Jared and Mike look over. Jensen is just staring at the guy blankly, pointing up at the menu when the guy yells, “What?” again. The guy looks up then back down, an ugly grin on his face. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Jared goes tense but Mike grabs his wrist again, stopping him. “Don’t.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and points at a small sign taped to the register. Jared knows it says ‘ _We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone too stupid to read the menu_ ’. He suspects Sophia put it there, the handwriting is obviously not Jensen’s and it’s too delicate to be Chris’s. When Jared first read it he’d found it funny, but judging by the look on the guy’s face he doesn’t. Not at all.

“This is gonna end badly,” Jared mutters.

Mike tightens the grip on his wrist. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t care what people–”

“Didn’t seem to be anything wrong with your tongue when you had it down your faggot boyfriend’s throat,” the guy sneers, and Jensen punches him right in the face.

Jared and Mike are both on their feet in a flash, running over and grabbing the guy before he has time to launch himself over the counter. He’s yelling and snarling insults, blood running from his broken nose as he fights to get at Jensen. Jared looks up to find Jensen standing still, cradling his fist in his other hand. He’s blinking rapidly, his face pale except for two red spots in his cheeks. He looks more surprised than shocked.

Mike starts pulling the enraged guy toward the door, and Jared tears his eyes away from Jensen to give him a hand. Together they throw the guy out onto the snow-covered pavement where he continues to scream insults and threats, his nose already swelling in his otherwise purple face.

“I’m suing this place! I’m suing that fucking retard! I’m suing all of you!”

“For what?” Mike asks calmly. “There are about ten people in here that will gladly testify that you were the one who attacked first. Right?” he adds, looking over his shoulder at the small crowd watching the display. They all nod, looking grim.

The guy gets to his feet and takes a step forward, but Jared does as well, pulling up to his full height and subtly flexing his muscles. The guy instantly falls back, looking unsure. Jared smiles sweetly. “You fucked with the wrong ‘retard’, asshole. Now get the hell out of here before this faggot rips you a new one.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer but walks back in, slamming the door shut behind him. “Shit,” he breathes out, looking over at Jensen. He’s still standing in the same spot, staring at his hand with a puzzled expression on his face. The crowd is dispersing, getting back to their coffees with satisfied smiles and animate talking and the two that were waiting in line seem in no hurry so Jared goes behind the counter and takes Jensen by the elbow, leading him over to the chair to sit down.

“Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?” He crouches by Jensen’s side and takes his hand, lightly stroking over the bruised knuckles with his thumb. Jensen flinches, but when Jared looks up in alarm Jensen just shakes his head. He still looks a bit dazed, like he’s not sure what happened.

“That was one hell of a right hook,” Jared says with a small smile. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Jensen shrugs, smiling a little crooked. He flexes his fingers, frowning slightly.

“No broken bones?”

Jensen shakes his head.

“So I guess you were defending my honor,” Jared says lightly, laughing when Jensen blushes. “You know I’m a big boy, right? I can take care of myself.”

Jensen looks up at him, his eyes serious. He reaches to cup Jared’s face then leans over and kisses him. “You hate that word,” he says, his voice hoarse with disuse.

Jared stares at him. “I do,” he says slowly. “You’re talking.”

Jensen gives him a tired smile and kisses him again. Then he stands up and goes to serve those waiting, leaving Jared crouching on the floor, staring at him in wonder. He gets slowly to his feet and walks back to the booth where Mike sits waiting for him.

“He okay?” he ask.

“He spoke,” Jared says dazed then shakes his head, trying to clear it. He feels a little dizzy. “Yeah, he’s fine. Bruised knuckles, that’s all.” He sinks back down on the bench, staring into his now cold coffee. “He just uttered his first words in almost two weeks. I was starting to think...” He stops, shaking his head. “Chris says before I came along Jensen sometimes went months without saying anything. I guess I thought I’d cured him of that. Stupid, I know.” He gives Mike a small ironic smile.

“Not stupid,” Mike says lightly. “Naively optimistic maybe.”

“Yeah. So...” He looks at the information scribbled down on the page in front of him. “You think this is going to work?”

Mike is silent for a while. “Jared,” he finally says, his voice quiet, “you do realize PTSD is not curable?”

Jared’s head snaps up. “What?”

Mike watches him, worried. “It can’t be cured. Even the best psychiatrist in the world wouldn’t be able to magically make Jensen better. This is about helping him find ways to manage it, to live with it, not curing him.”

“But...” Jared swallows. His stomach twists, pushing bile up his throat. “Never?”

Mike shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d read up on this. You said...”

“I did. I, I did. I just...” Jared rubs a hand over his face. “This mutism thing, kids who have it, they get better. I mean, those articles I read talk about weeks, maybe months. I know he’s an extreme case–”

“Really extreme,” Mike cuts in. “Exceptionally.”

“Yes, but–”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if he starts talking it doesn’t mean he’s cured, Jared. The mutism is just a symptom. Like the age regression, and the flashbacks, and the jumpiness and the anger issues... We can treat the symptoms, find ways to deal with them and lessen their impact, but the PTSD is never going to completely go away. Even at his best he’s going to have moments where you feel like nothing’s changed at all. That’s just how it is.”

Jared stares at him. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure he could open his mouth without being sick all over himself.

“I’m really sorry, I seriously thought you knew this. When you said you’d read up on it, I assumed... I’m sorry.” Mike sighs. He pulls a small notebook out of his pocket and starts writing. “These are some online support groups you might want to look into. They have chat forums and all kinds of information for both sufferers and carers. I know many find them really helpful.” He looks up with a small smile. “Don’t let them scare you off. They can be very blunt and straightforward, and they won’t sugarcoat it for you. Which means they’ll tell you things you don’t really want to hear, like I just did. But honestly, it’s what you’re gonna need more than anything. People who know and can let _you_ know if you’re doing it wrong.”

“Like what?” Jared manages hoarsely.

“Like what Chris does for example. The man is a saint, but he is breaking so many rules it’s painful to watch. He needs to stop seeing Jensen as that broken ten-year-old and start treating him like an adult. Stop making excuses for him, stop walking on eggshells around him, stop allowing him to steamroll over everyone, including himself. And he needs to learn to back off when asked to. He hovers like a mother hen, all the time. All it does is make Jensen more edgy.”

Jared swallows. What if _he’s_ doing everything wrong? Like that backing off thing, he sucks at that. Even when Jensen shrugs him off he keeps coming back, to lay a hand on Jensen’s shoulder or his hip, just because he wants Jensen to know he’s there for him. Doesn’t matter if Jensen shrugs him off again and again and scowls in annoyance, he still keeps coming back. It’s just so hard to see someone he loves looking so tense and clearly miserable and not try to reach out to comfort him.

“Do you think I’m making him worse? I mean, he was getting better and then he suddenly got worse and now I don’t know if–”

“Jared, stop. You can’t think like that or you’ll go insane, okay?” Mike gives him a small smile. “Go home. Get some rest. You look half-dead, kid.”

“Jensen will get off his shift soon–” Jared starts but Mike shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Go home alone and sleep. You need sleep.”

Jared looks at him. He looks over at the counter. Chris is there, he must have come back while they were talking. He’s talking to Jensen who pays him little or no notice, and only frowns in annoyance when Chris snaps his fingers to get his attention. Maybe Mike is right. Maybe they need a small break, if only for a few hours.

Jensen raises his head and catches Jared watching. His face breaks out in a smile. He looks more relaxed than he’s done in weeks, like punching that guy released some of the tension that’s been building up inside him.

Jared smiles back. “I can sleep later,” he says, already getting to his feet. He can hear Mike sigh, but he doesn’t care. Jensen is smiling, and that’s all that matters.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_ December 2007 _

__

 

_“Chris, it’s not that we don’t appreciate all you’ve done. But he needs his family. He’s not ready to be on his own. He might_ never _be ready to be on his own.”_

_“He won’t be alone, ma’am.” Chris’s voice is patient but Jensen can hear the edge it’s walking. “I’m going to be there with him, all the time.”_

_“He’s too young. It’s too soon! He’s not...”Jensen’s mother hitches her breath. Jensen can feel her sad gaze on him but he doesn’t look up, eyes on the page in front of him, his fingers tightening around the pencil the only sign that he’s listening._

_“Donna,” his father says, voice a little rough. “The boy’s not happy here, you know that. Maybe... maybe he needs a little space. And it’s a good school. He’s got this one thing going for him._ One _thing. We owe it to him to help him make something of it. Not like he has much else to fall back on.”_

_Jensen’s hand stills. He raises his head, eyes finding his father’s flushed face. Like he only now remembers mute doesn’t equal deaf. Chris shoots Jensen a warning glare that he knows means, ‘Don’t make a scene if you want this to work out.’ He grits his teeth and lowers his head again, nostrils flaring in anger._

_“My uncle says he can get us an apartment. It’s got big windows. First floor. I already have a job lined up.” Chris doesn’t mention it’s bussing tables at some shitty diner and will barely cover rent. “We’ll make it work. And if it doesn’t... I’ll bring him back.”_

_His mother sniffles and Jensen bites down an indignant huff. God, he can’t wait to get away from these people!_

\------------

Present day

“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Jared asks for the fifth time.

Jensen forces out a smile and shakes his head. He gives Jared a quick kiss and slips out of Chris’s truck, eyes on the building in front of him. He waits until the truck starts moving, even if he knows Jared won’t go further than the next free parking spot. Then he takes a deep breath and goes up to the door. There’s a buzzer, and he pushes the button, tapping his fingers nervously against the brass plaque.

“ _Yes?_ ”

He stares at the buzzer, feeling at loss. She’s supposed to know he’s coming. She’s supposed to fucking know he can’t talk!

“ _Please state your name. Hello?_ ”

He coughs and clears his throat, but it’s no use, there’s nothing. He taps his fingernail on the brass, an angry version of ‘shave and a haircut,’ and after a moment’s silence the voice asks, “ _Jensen Ackles?_ ” About time! He taps the last ‘two bits,’ and the buzzer finally lets him in.

Her practice is up on the seventh floor, and it takes him forever to walk the stairs, because hell if he’s stepping a foot into that tiny elevator. By the time he reaches her floor he’s out of breath, pissed off, and so nervous he feels like throwing up. It takes him a moment to find the right door, and when he pushes it open he walks into a small but bright waiting room with chairs and magazines, and an elderly receptionist who looks up at him expectantly. He swallows his irritation and gives her a small tight smile, pulling out his wallet to show her his ID. She smiles back and types something into the computer.

“Dr. Ferris will be ready for you in a moment,” she says, “if you’ll just have a seat.”

He nods and looks around. The room is really fucking small. There’s a window and he walks over to it, looking out. It’s a very long way down. Fuck. He sits down, tapping his fingers on his knees. Within a minute he’s on his feet again, checking the window. There’s no fire escape or anything. If the door locks there’s no way he can get out of here.

“You can open the door if you want,” the woman says all matter-of-fact, like she’s used to people behaving crazy around her. Considering whom she works for, she probably is.

Jensen bites his lip then walks over and opens the door, just a crack. He looks over at the woman, expecting her to give him a condescending smile, but she doesn’t even look up. Relaxing a little he leans against the wall beside the door, feeling the cooler air from the hallway brush against him as it slips into the room.

The minutes tick by. He’s starting to nod off despite still being nervous as hell and having imbibed about five gallons of coffee before coming here. He’s been spending most nights painting or drawing, keeping Chris up with the bright light from the LED lamp. It doesn’t seem to bother Jared as much, although Jensen will sometimes look over to catch Jared watching him when he’s supposed to be sleeping.

“Mr. Ackles?” the receptionist says, jerking him out of his doze. “You can go in now.”

He straightens up, squaring his shoulders, and walks over to where she points, leaving the other door cracked open. He thinks of knocking but she’d told him to go in so that’s what he does; just opens the door and steps inside.

Suddenly it makes sense why the other room was so small because this one is huge. It has big wide windows, a comfy looking couch, some chairs, and a desk and shelves filled with books. And that’s just on one side. The other side is an art studio. It has easels with large sheets of paper, a selection of pencils and paint, charcoal and brushes. There’s a lower table – for kids, he presumes – which has crayons and colored pencils and blocks of paper.

Jensen breathes in. He breathes out. This just might work.

“Hello.”

He jumps, turning his head so fast his neck twinges painfully. There’s a woman standing by one of the windows. She looks to be somewhere between forty and fifty, with shoulder length hair and calm eyes. When she smiles it’s a little crooked.

“I’m Dr. Ferris, but you can call me Sam.”

He nods, raising his hand in a wary greeting. He tries to say his name and ends up coughing into the crook of his elbow. She nods, eyes studying him.

“Jensen Ackles,” she says, casually crossing the room and extending her hand. He takes it, painfully aware that his own hand is clammy and unsteady.

Her handshake is brief but firm, a surprising amount of strength in a woman half his size. She tilts her head, looking at him in speculation, and he meets it head on, jaw tight. After a while she smiles and walks over to a comfy chair across from the couch. There’s a small coffee table between the chair and the couch, with a box of tissues strategically placed for easy access right in the middle. Jensen would love to say he won’t be needing any, but with the way he’s been the last few weeks, he might have to ask her for a refill. And isn’t that thought reassuring?

“Can you close the door for me?” she asks, and he looks at her sharply. She gazes calmly back, and his eyes narrow. This feels like a test. He gives her a tight smile and casually closes the door. It’s okay. He’d spotted a fire escape outside one of the windows when he came in.

There’s a rack by the door where he hangs his jacket since he’s already sweating buckets in the comfortably warm room. He throws a quick glance around, just calculating the distance to the door before walking over to the couch.

“Come on, let’s have a seat,” she says then adds just as he’s about to sink down, “Maybe grab a sketchbook over there first.”

He hesitates then walks over and picks up one of the larger blocks along with an assortment of pencils, both graphite and colored ones. When he sits down he’s relieved to find the couch not too soft since he’d hate to sit hunched over, drawing awkwardly with his back all crooked. He looks up to find her watching him, head tilted slightly in thought. She gives him a small smile. He doesn’t smile back.

“You don’t look too happy to be here,” she says, not sounding very surprised.

He shrugs again. He’s not too happy going to the dentist every two years either, but it’s necessary if he doesn’t want his teeth to fall out. It’s like that, except instead of his teeth he’s about to have his head drilled into. Without the option of first being sedated.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. This, being here, how does it make you feel?” She gestures at the sketchbook when he frowns at her.

He thinks it over for a moment then quickly sketches a picture of a small kid looking up at a strict woman staring down at him. Her hair is in a bun, and she’s holding a ruler, tapping it against the palm of her hand. Jensen rips out the page and hands it over.

Dr. Ferris looks at it and smiles. “Like being back in school, huh?” she says. “Well, I will be giving you homework, so I guess there are similarities. Although that hairdo really doesn’t suit me.”

She sits back, studying the drawing with interest. “This is really good. Nice details. You are very talented, Jensen,” she says, sounding pleased. “I’m more used to stick figures and doodles, so that’s a nice change.” She smiles although her eyes are serious. “Using art in therapy is, as I’m sure you know, usually a way of revealing emotions that the patient can’t express or might not even be completely aware of. It’s not really meant as a sole communication device. But then again most of my clients have other ways of communicating. Considering your situation, your attention to detail is going to be a big help.” She pauses then asks, “You don’t write?”

He shakes his head. It’s not that he doesn’t know how, it’s just that when he tries it’s like someone grabs his wrist, and he’s lucky if he can scribble a few crooked letters of badly spelled words. For some reason drawing is different. Like the pictures fool his brain into thinking it’s allowed, whereas writing comes too close to talking. He’s tried using a computer to type the words but his hands start shaking like crazy, and he keeps hitting the wrong keys. His texting is too badly spelled for autocorrect to even bother.

“And you don’t use signs?”

He smirks and makes a few rude hand gestures. She just looks at him and after an awkward moment he sighs and shakes his head. It’s just another way of talking. His parents got a woman to teach him ASL but as soon as he tried to arrange signs into sentences they got scrambled up and made no sense anymore.

He shifts in his seat, watching her. She gazes silently back. Jensen looks away. His old psychiatrist used to talk a lot. Just kept saying all kind of things she thought were relevant and watched his reactions. This one doesn’t. She just... watches.

“Okay then,” she says after a while. “Normally I’d engage in some chit chat, so we could get a feel for each other. Touch on some surface before we go digging, things like that. I don’t think that’s gonna work for you.”

He shakes his head. He’s not going to spend hours doodling about his every day life. He doesn’t have the patience, and he doubts she has the time. Plus he’s done all that already. Spent years sitting with crayons and pencils, trying to explain what was going on in his head and his life. School, homework, nightmares... all that shit. Not like it did any good.

“If we decide to continue this I’ll be asking your old therapist for your file, if that’s all right with you. I’m assuming you’d prefer that to having to recap a decade of therapy history for me.” She gives him a small smile but he just shrugs.

“All right. Lets talk about what led to you coming here.”

Despite that being the whole purpose of this he can’t help stiffening. She notices, of course, but she doesn’t comment on it, just tilts her head a little, studying him.

“I don’t know much about your case except for what your friend Rosenbaum told me,” she admits, “and what little I learned from reading the news reports online.”

It takes Jensen a moment to realize she means Mike. He wants to explain that Mike isn’t actually _his_ friend, but, fuck, it’s not like it matters.

“You don’t remember anything from your time with the kidnapper, is that right?”

Jensen nods. His heart starts beating faster, and he clutches the pencil in his hand for reassurance.

“Do you remember things from _before_ you were kidnapped?”

He hesitates. He remembers some things, like his birthday a couple of days before, and the day his sister was born some years earlier. Being at the zoo with his parents and Josh. He was afraid of the snakes, he remembers that. Being at a beach, crying as he helplessly watched his big red beach ball float away. Things like that. But he doesn’t really remember life before his kidnapping. There is no Before or After, there is just this. Being like this.

He thinks for a minute then draws pictures of photographs. The birthday cake. A lion in a cage. A sandcastle. They’re stuck to a mirror that reflects a faceless person. He shows it to her, sure she won’t understand, but she nods, looking thoughtful.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/250025/250025_original.jpg)

“Snapshots. Okay. But you do remember the day you were rescued.”

He starts to nod but stops, frowning. He doesn’t really remember the whole day, just the rescue itself. The door breaking down, the cops rushing in, and the shooting. That’s all. He doesn’t remember what happened before that or after. He has no recollection of being carried out, or being in the ambulance, or arriving at the hospital or even seeing his parents again. Just crash, bam, splatter. Screaming. And then suddenly waking up in a brightly colored room as a nurse was checking his blood pressure, and seeing his mother asleep in a chair by his bed. He’s not sure how long had passed but it was summer. His dad had grown a beard, and it scared the shit out of him, because he thought he was looking at a stranger. His little sister had started talking. Which was ironic because he couldn’t. He’d laid there, that first day of what would be the rest of his fucked up life, and he’d tried to call for his mama, and he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Jensen? What are you thinking?”

He swallows. Then he takes a deep breath and draws four panels. One is blank, the next one is of a gun going off, then another blank one and last a picture of him in a hospital bed. He hands it over, breathing sharply through his nose.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/248921/248921_original.jpg)

“Just the shooting?” she asks. “That’s all you remember? And then the hospital?” He nods. “Do you know how long had passed?” He shrugs then points at the calendar on her desk. “Days? Weeks? Months? Months. Do you know how many?” He shows her two fingers then three then wiggles them indecisively. “Okay. That is interesting.”

Jensen frowns. Okay. He finds it more frustrating and annoying, but whatever floats your boat, lady. She notices him scowling and smiles a little.

“We’ll come back to that later. I want you to tell me a little about your PTSD. How does it affect your life?”

He blinks at her, not sure what she’s asking for, but she just gestures at his sketchbook and sits back, waiting. Okay then.

The next hour he sits with his feet up on the table, the sketchbook propped on his raised knees as he draws, one picture after another. Rain running down a dark window. Snowflakes shaped like monsters. A door, locked and bolted. A dark room with the walls caving in. Himself sitting in a corner, a puddle at his feet, surrounded by people yelling, laughing, having loud fun. His chest, cracked open to show a dried up heart with all the arteries severed. Him, screaming in rage, steam coming out of his ears and hands clenched into fists.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/247924/247924_original.jpg)

Him on his knees, sucking a faceless man’s dick with an endless row of men waiting for their turn. Jared hugging him, his arms like prison bars, with Jensen gasping for breath, his eyes wide and panicking. Jared looking at him with hearts in his eyes and Jensen staring blankly back, his mouth stitched shut and his heart burning.

Every one he finishes he hands over without looking up, the pencil already poised for the next one. The further he gets, the more _personal_ they get, the more his hand shakes. He breaks a number of pencils, throwing them aside and grabbing new ones without pausing. His eyes burn, and his throat hurts, and every now and then he has to stop to wipe at his face with the back of his hand. His shirt clings to his back. When he finally stops and leans back on the couch the leather feels cold despite the flannel and t-shirt. He shivers, first pulling the sleeves over his hands, and then, when that doesn’t help, he crosses his arms, trapping his fingers in his armpits.

The drawings lie on the table, laid out like cards. The order is slightly wrong he feels but he doesn’t correct her. Sam sits with her knees crossed, fingers thoughtfully tapping the arms of her chair. Her eyes flicker from one drawing to another, at times looking up at Jensen then down again. Like she’s trying to fit the story behind the drawings to the man she’s seeing, doing a paint-by-numbers without a finished picture to base it on.

“If I had met you five years ago,” she finally asks, “which one would you have picked as the one that disturbs you the most?”

Jensen hesitates a moment then points at the one with him hunched in a corner.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/249122/249122_original.jpg)

“Three years ago? One?” He points at the same one, both times. “And now?”

He points at the last two, unable to choose between them.

She nods thoughtful. “That’s a big change in one year. Why do you think that happened?”

He leans forward, touching the picture of Jared with hearts in his eyes. He can’t help smiling a little before reluctantly pulling away.

“You fell in love.” She smiles a little then looks at the other drawings, frowning slightly. She picks the one of his chest cracked open, holding it up. “Despite this?”

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/250227/250227_original.jpg)

He bites his lip, then picks up the sketchbook again and draws himself and Jared facing each other, Jared’s hand on his chest. There’s a glass wall around them and outside it there’s a crowd of people, watching, hands reaching but not touching, the glass wall keeping them away.

“Only him? You don’t love anyone else?” He shakes his head. “Your family? Friends?” He keeps shaking his head, his cheeks heating. It’s not that he’s ashamed, he just knows what it makes most people think. Sociopath. But it’s not like that. He _wants_ to care, he just doesn’t.

“Emotional numbness or apathy is not uncommon with sufferers of PTSD,” she says gently. “It’s actually more unusual to break through it after such a long time of detachment.” She smiles. “Just something to consider.”

He looks away, uncomfortable. It makes no sense to him, praising him for something that should be normal behavior. It’s not admirable, it’s fucking pathetic.

“So after all these years of apathy you suddenly meet Jared, and he somehow makes you feel again. That can’t be easy.”

His head snaps up, and he stares at her, surprised. Yes! Finally someone who understands! Everyone’s been so damn _happy_ for him they just don’t get how fucking hard it is! Not caring was easy. Not caring meant nothing mattered. Now he has to watch his every step, his every glance, and smile and gesture, because if he does it wrong, if he screws up, he doesn’t just hurt Jared, he hurts himself. And he’s not used to feeling hurt, not like that. Angry, yes. Depressed, a lot. But not this sadness, this fragile feeling of having let someone down, and the fear that he might lose them forever.

“How are you handling it? All that change.”

He gives her a sarcastic look and sweeps his hand across the room. Well, it landed him here. So no, not handling it very well.

“But do you feel it’s worth it?”

He blinks. Thinks of Jared, waiting out in the truck. Of his patient smile and worried eyes. Of the light kiss Jared had woken him up with this morning.

He ducks his head, his face heating when he can’t keep a smile from tugging at his lips. He nods.

She smiles back at him. “Good.”

\-----------

“How was it?” Jared asks, eyes on the road even if he’s itching to read Jensen’s silent face. There’s no answer or even a shrug to let him know if Jensen heard him. He waits until they’re stop at a red light before turning his head. “You think you wanna go again? Keep at it?”

Jensen stares out the window, face blank. Jared keeps one eye on the traffic lights, hoping they keep until he gets some form of an answer. He really should have waited to start this conversation until they were back at Jensen’s place but after waiting in the truck for the last two hours, having no idea what the hell was going on up there, he’s itching with curiosity.

“Jensen?” Jared tries again when the red shifts to yellow. Yellow to green. A car honks behind them, and Jensen jumps in his seat, eyes blinking rapidly. Jared puts his arm out the window, at the last moment changing the one finger salute into a more friendly wave, motioning whoever is back there to move around. His eyes never leave Jensen’s face. Jensen is still blinking, a small frown forming between his eyes, and then he turns his head, looking at Jared in question. Wherever he just went, it was obviously out of earshot.

Jared gives him a small smile. “I asked, do you wanna keep seeing her?”

Jensen hesitates a moment then nods slowly.

“She give you another appointment?” Jensen nods again, pulling a note out of his pocket. Tomorrow, it says. 5:30 pm. “Okay.” Jared smiles in relief. “That’s good. Do you like her, is she good?”

Jensen nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He lifts up his hands. They’re covered in grey dust and smudges, the indent of the pencil still pressed pink into his fingers from the tight grip.

“She really made you work for your money, huh?” Jared says with a laugh. He feels elevated, almost dizzy. Truth be told he’d just as much expected Jensen to come back out within five minutes. This feels like a small victory. “She make any sense out of your weird doodles?”

Jensen slaps his arm, faking insult, but he’s smiling as he nods. He lays his hand on his forehead then draws the fingers together like he’s pulling thoughts out of his head and casts them down on imaginary paper in front of him then with the same motion pulls them from there and projects them forward, presumably at his therapist. He looks slightly awed.

“Well,” Jared says, feeling guilty at the small sting of jealousy, “it’s supposed to be her specialty, right? And you’re damn expressive, which I’m sure helps.”

Jensen nods. There’s a small smile playing upon his lips, like he’s thinking of a joke Jared isn’t privileged to. That kinda stings, too.

“Feels a bit weird,” Jared says, smiling to take the edge from his words, “knowing you’re up there, drawing pictures I can’t see. I mean,” he explains quickly when Jensen looks at him in confusion, “not bad weird, just... strange. I’m so used to watching you work.”

Jensen’s face softens. It’s a look of pity, and Jared can feel his face go red.

“I’m being stupid. Sorry,” he mumbles and turns forward, putting the truck back in gear. The lights are changing to green once again, and he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel Jensen watching him, but he feels too embarrassed to look back. What the hell was that? Way to act like a jealous boyfriend, you moron.

There’s a weird squeaky sound, and he looks over to see Jensen drawing a profile of two men kissing on the steamed up glass window with his finger. He adds a big heart around them before looking over at Jared with a smile, obviously humoring him.

Jared blushes even deeper and gives Jensen a shy smile back. “I know,” he says. “I love you, too.”

Jensen snorts and shifts in the seat until he’s leaning into Jared’s side, one hand on his thigh. All the way home he keeps drawing on Jared’s jeans with his fingers, image after image that are all too obscure to really make sense, but the heat of Jensen’s hand, and the smug smile on his face give Jared a good enough idea of what they might be.

Guess he can take Jensen having secrets with strangers as long as this side of him is still all his.

\---------

“When did you figure out you were gay?”

Jensen frowns. He’s not sure. Some time before he started high school. It wasn’t like all his friends were talking about girls, and he realized he wasn’t thinking that way. He didn’t have friends. Apart from Chris of course. Sure Chris had other friends _he_ talked to, like the guys of Kane, the band Chris formed his first year of high school and for some bizarre reason is still alive, in some form or other. Mostly other. They meet up every now and then, even have a gig once in a blue moon, but the other guys have girlfriends and wives by now. Steve even has a kid. It’s different.

But sure, Chris tried to pull Jensen into that crowd, unsuccessfully. They were too loud, too rowdy. They didn’t get how Jensen worked, and, more importantly, they didn’t get how he _didn’t_ work. That they had to watch their step around him, that there were just some things he couldn’t do. He couldn’t just “smoke up and chill” like they kept suggesting. They didn’t understand, didn’t _want_ to understand even if Chris repeatedly explained it to them, and it pissed Jensen the hell off. One too many snotty remarks, and that was it, Jensen told them to go fuck themselves, in not so many or even _any_ words, and stayed away from then on.

So no, that’s not how he found out. It was more of a feeling, like something shifted inside him. He’d glanced around in the showers after gym, discreetly because they were always waiting for him to do something weird, and he was pretty sure staring at them while naked would qualify. And it hadn’t felt scary and uncomfortable anymore. In fact it made him curious, made him feel... something he didn’t even know how to describe. He supposes the best term would be ‘not dead’.

He hadn’t realized that meant he was gay until some years later. He just figured it was another new and exciting symptom of his lovely PTSD. Wanting to look at cocks. Touch them. Even taste them. Nowhere in all his speculations did anyone touching _him_ ever come into the equation. Until a guy in his class, Bill Davis his name was, gave him a tentative smile one day and just like that he had a flash of them kissing projected into his head. Kissing and touching and Bill’s hand sliding down to his dick.

It had been a shock. Totally unexpected. He’d staggered back, face red like fire, and Bill’s smile had frozen then dropped like a stone. His friends had noticed, asking what was wrong and through a haze Jensen heard Bill tell them Jensen had been hitting on him, the weirdo. “Wouldn’t think _he’d_ be a fag. Guess he got a taste for it after all.”

To this day Jensen still doesn’t know where that came from. If Bill was just a homophobic asshole who’d seen the sudden lust in Jensen’s eyes or if he was really a closeted asshole, lashing out because he was afraid he’d given himself away and been blatantly rejected. Doesn’t matter, the outcome was the same. Bill’s friends turned to glare at Jensen, but as soon as they made a show of advancing, Jensen freaked out and didn’t wake up until three hours later, in clean clothes with bruised knuckles and a week’s suspension - more for his benefit than punishment, he suspects. When he got back to school someone had written FAG in permanent marker on his locker. Chris had found out who did it (Bill’s brother) and beaten the living shit out of him.

People had left Jensen alone after that, but he still heard them whispering when he passed them in the halls. The words never bothered him but the attention did. He had enough rumors attached to his name already, he really had no interest in adding to the reasons people stared at him. Thankfully that was his last year, and at the end of it he and Chris had left town, Texas, and whatever reservation he’d had about being gay, behind.

Three months after he started art school he’d blown his teacher in the supply room, and there was no going back after that.

“Was he your first?” Sam asks and Jensen jerks back to the present to find an array of drawings littering the table in front of him, his teenage come-out story told in curved lines and shadows. He does this a lot now, draws what’s going on inside his head without realizing what he’s doing until after. He doesn’t think Sam knows that he’s not really present at those times. Guess all she sees is him bent over the sketchbook, working furiously.

She’s watching him now, waiting for an answer, so he nods, smiling wryly in remembrance. It’s nothing he’s ashamed of, but he doesn’t like people thinking he slept his way to his exceptionally good grades. He worked damn hard for those grades, that’s the truth, and not any of it was done on his knees. If anything that blowjob made the rest of his year more difficult than anyone’s, because the guy had felt so ashamed of “taking advantage” that he couldn’t look Jensen in the eye anymore and just mumbled something about “nice work” every time he made the rounds. It was damn frustrating. Jensen couldn’t really understand what the big deal was. He kinda doubted it was the man’s first blowjob, not the way he’d taken to it, so why he had to act like it actually _meant_ something was beyond him. Thankfully the guy had only been teaching that one class and was gone by the end of the year. Moved with his wife and kids to Ohio or Idaho or wherever. Jensen couldn’t really remember. He definitely didn’t care.

He’d kept to strangers after that, way less complicated. With one exception.

Mr. Morgan, or Jeff as he liked his students to call him, was just a few years past thirty, but he was already graying at the temples with more grey sprinkled into his beard. It was that more than anything that had drawn Jensen to him. He’d been going through a period of weird fascination with beards at the time, constantly catching himself staring at unshaven men with an odd feeling he couldn’t place. Maybe it had something to do with his dad having a beard when he woke up all those years ago. A beard he’d shaved off the moment he realized his son wet the bed every time he walked into the room.

If Jeff had been surprised at seeing his former student waiting outside his home the night after graduation he didn’t say it. Just opened his door and invited Jensen inside. Jensen had shaken his head and grabbed the man by the wrist, pulling him into a dark alley beside the building instead. Jeff had tried to kiss him, but at the first sting of stubble Jensen had jerked back, his breath hitching in his throat. Whatever caused his fascination it didn’t run that far. Jeff had reached out for him in alarm, the look on his face a mixture of want and guilt.

“Jesus, kiddo,” he’d said, voice shaking. “I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re so…”

Jensen had quickly shut him up by dropping to his knees and unzipping Jeff’s pants. He’d put all his best effort into it, wanting to thank the man for two years of patience, and guidance and things he had no words for, but he knew they’d done more to help him deal than all those years of therapy combined. He’d made it last, brought Jeff to the brink again and again before finally allowing him to finish, down Jensen’s throat with fingers tight in his hair, and his name stuttered into the dark.

Jensen had been on his feet and out of there in seconds, leaving Jeff leaning against the dirty wall, breath heaving and eyes wide, hand grabbing at his pants as he hoarsely stammered, “Wait, wait! Jensen, please. I just want to...” His words got lost in the night as Jensen hurried home.

He never saw the man again. By the time Jensen and Chris returned from their short trip home to Texas, Jeffrey Morgan had moved away, another casualty to Jensen’s blowjob adventures, or so he thought. In reality he’d been offered a position at an art school in Louisiana, but Jensen didn’t find out about that until six months later. He kinda liked the other theory better. That he blew guys so damn well he blew them to another state. It was funnier.

“So what makes Jared different?” Sam asks, studying the drawings he handed her. “Why is he more than a quick blow in an alley?”

Jensen blinks. He has no idea how to explain that. He’s just... Jared. There’s something there that Jensen noticed the first time Jared walked into The Black Bean at the beginning of the school year. Something strong and still so vulnerable. A mask of adulthood hiding the face of a hurting kid. Maybe it was a sense of kindred spirit, he doesn’t know. He just knows that he’d been looking around campus after that, hoping he’d see that kid again, and then by mere chance he had. Had noticed the cautious way Jared walked, the cocky tone in his voice that still didn’t hide the tension in his eyes. Had watched Jared’s rather pathetic attempts at flirting, and how he’d been shot down again and again, each time adding to his insecurities and raising his walls.

It had made the choice to jump him easier but Jensen knows that even if everything had pointed at Jared being straight as an arrow he still would have given it a shot. Gay or straight, guys hardly ever say no to blowjobs.

Sam is waiting so he draws a picture of Jared embracing him, Jensen’s head resting on his broad chest, eyes closed, face relaxed. Jared’s eyes are open, alert, his shoulders squared and his mouth set in determination. He looks like the embodiment of a guardian angel. Jensen is tempted to add wings and a sword just for kicks but it seems a bit ridiculous. Turns out it’s not needed, she gets what he means anyway.

“He makes you feel safe?” Jensen nods. “He looks very tall. Strong. Like he could easily overpower you. You’ve never felt intimidated by that?” Jensen rolls his eyes, the idea absurd. Like Jared would ever hurt him. “Not even during sex?”

He hesitates. There is that of course. Not that it’s ever been an issue, because Jensen doesn’t put himself in the kind of situation where he might feel intimidated. He’s the one in charge, all the way. Jared might initiate a kiss or two, but what happens next is always on Jensen’s terms. He’s the one that moves it from simple kissing to down and dirty make out. His hands are always first to wander, he decides whether they go further or not. He drops to his knees or pushes Jared back on the bed if that’s what he wants to do. Even when Jared blows him it’s only with Jensen’s permission, or because he simply guides Jared to it. The few times they’ve gone all the way it’s always Jensen’s choice, turning Jared over on his side or stomach, pushing inside with his face hidden behind Jared’s broad shoulders, and Jared panting his name, asking for more, yes, please harder.

“And how do you think he feels about that?”

Jensen frowns. Feels about what? Having sex? Jared is an eighteen-year-old full-blooded American male. He’s got a hard-on pretty much 24/7. He’d guess Jared feels damn fucking good about it!

“About you always being in control,” she elaborates. “Calling all the shots. That doesn’t bother him?”

Oh. Jensen bites his lip. He’s never thought of that. He’s not stupid though, he’s pretty sure Jared would like to fuck him if he could. His hands sometimes wander uncomfortably near that area but Jensen always pulls away before they get too close. He just... can’t. And it’s stupid because why not? Why the hell is that any different from everything else they’ve been doing? Even if yes, maybe he was raped all those years ago, but it’s not like he remembers it. Chances are if the guy raped him, he probably fucked his mouth as well, and Jensen has no problems swallowing Jared’s dick down. So, why this? Why can’t he do this?

“It bothers _you_.” She’s watching him, eyes steady. “You want more.”

Jensen swallows. He thinks of the sounds Jared makes as Jensen pushes in. Of the soft groans and needy moans, the desperate begging for more, harder, faster. “Please, Jensen, please. So good. It’s so good. God, yes! There!” The blissful look on Jared’s face after he comes, like he just took a short trip to heaven on Jensen’s dick.

He nods, face heating. Yes, he wants that. He wants to know what makes Jared feel that way, what makes him want it so much. He wants… He wants to know what it feels like to get instead of give. He wants to be on even footing, because right now it feels that even if he’s the one in charge, he’s still the one missing out.

“Does he know that? Have you told him?”

He shakes his head. How can he? “Jared, so here’s the thing. I really want you to fuck me but you can’t. Because I’m a freak with major ass issues so... Sorry. But hey, at least now you know you’re not the only one frustrated to hell.” Yes, that would make everything so much better!

“Do you trust him? One hundred percent? Do you believe he would stop at any time you needed him to?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, wondering if she’s been talking to Chris. Of course he trusts Jared. The problem isn’t Jared, it’s him. As much as he wants to know what it feels like having Jared’s dick up his ass he’s not sure he’s ready to bet his sanity on it.

 

 

But, he thinks to himself as they’re driving home, no one says they have to jump right to that. Maybe he can start with small things, allowing Jared to take over every now and then. Let him decide for once what they do.

He looks over at Jared, quiet and comforting by his side, one hand resting lightly on Jensen’s thigh. He is big. Very big. Very strong. But he’s also very gentle. If Jensen was ever to give up control to anyone he couldn’t ask for a better candidate.

\----------

Jensen is watching him. It’s a little disconcerting to tell the truth. Not that Jared isn’t used to Jensen’s eyes on him, whether it’s deliberate ogling or just vacant staring, but this feels different. It’s like Jensen is studying him, searching for something maybe. Just when Jared is thinking of making a joke of it, maybe ask if he has egg salad in his teeth, Jensen comes over and sits down beside him on the couch. He lays a palm on Jared’s cheek, turning his head for a soft kiss, then pulls back, an unsure look in his eyes. Jared can’t tell if he’s unsure about what he’s doing, or if he’s unsure about Jared.

Jared really doesn’t want Jensen to feel unsure about him.

So he leans over and kisses Jensen back, keeping it light and simple as he waits for Jensen to give him a hint of where he likes it to go, since that’s how they usually do this. But this time Jensen just pulls back again. He looks... well, frankly a little disappointed. He opens his mouth then closes it again and sighs. Jared has no idea what to make of that. When he asks if there’s anything the matter, Jensen just shakes his head and sinks down on the couch, eyes fixed on the television in front of them. If Jared was to guess he’d say was sulking. But why?

Jared lays a hand on Jensen’s neck, rubbing his thumb lightly over the short hairs. Jensen shivers and pushes into the touch, his hands twitching slightly where they lie in his lap. Jared smiles. He slides his fingers into Jensen’s hair, rubbing the scalp like he would scratch a dog.

“You like that?” he asks with a grin.

Jensen closes his eyes briefly then breathes out another sigh and gives Jared a small tight smile. It looks anything but happy. Jared’s own smile falters. He feels like he’s missing something, he just has no idea what.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again, raising his eyebrows when Jensen dismisses it with a wave. “C’mon, you’re sulking. What is it?”

Jensen stays silent for a long time, gnawing at his bottom lip, a sure sign that he’s feeling out of his comfort zone. Finally he reaches over to move Jared’s hand from his neck to rest high on his thigh instead. He gives Jared a pointed look, and Jared blinks back, confused.

“I thought you liked it when I stroked your hair,” he says. “You don’t like it? I don’t...” He stops when Jensen rolls his eyes, jaw tightening. “What?”

Jensen shakes his head. He stands up and fetches his sketchbook then goes to sit by the kitchen table while he draws. Jared isn’t sure whether he’s supposed to sit and wait or what, so he just keeps still. He spends the next fifteen minutes absently watching MTV until suddenly Jensen drops back on the couch beside him, thrusting the sketchbook into his hands.

Jared jumps. “Whoa! Okay, that’s... uhm. Wow. Does my cock really look like that?”

Jensen huffs and taps the drawing impatiently then looks up at Jared, quirking his eyebrow.

“You want to blow me? Wearing... uhm... is that leather? You want me to buy leather pants? Ow! Why are you hitting me? It’s your drawing!”

Jensen glares at him in disgust and gets to his feet, shaking his head.

“What? Jensen, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. I mean... Okay, seriously, that’s how you see my dick? It’s like I had a horse implant. What? Jensen!”

He stares at the closed door to the bathroom, feeling completely lost. And a little turned on. Leather pants? Really? And... He looks down, hesitantly palming his cock. So how much of that should he attribute to artistic license?

\---------

She sits there, studying him, the small frown between her eyebrows changing from deep to shallow in sync with her thoughts. Jensen stares defiantly back, wondering what the hell she’s looking at. He’s edgy, and tired and disheartened by his own failure. He’s tried everything he can think of, short of drawing a picture of Jared fucking him, because honestly, he’s not sure he is or ever will be ready for that, but Jared just... doesn’t get it. At all. He even tried typing it on Jared’s laptop and ended up with I WATN YOUOTEBNIHCRAEG which made no damn sense at all, to him or a bewildered Jared. He’s seriously starting to think he has dysgraphia on top of everything else.

And the worst thing is that the less Jared gives him the more he wants. It’s driving him insane. He used to think all he wanted was for Jared to show some initiative, but the longer he has to wait for _anything_ to happen the more demanding and descriptive his fantasies are getting. If this goes on much longer he won’t just be drawing a picture of Jared fucking him, he’ll be devoting a whole series of paintings to it. With excruciating details. Possibly involving dildos.

“Will you tell me something?” Sam suddenly asks, jerking him out of his thoughts. “Why did you decide to go back to therapy?”

He frowns, irritated. Mockingly gestures, ‘Have you met me?’

“Yes, but why now?”

He blinks. Swallows. Looks out the window at the rapidly darkening sky.

The truth is he never expected to live long. Not because he feels the world is out to get him and will at some point catch up, finishing what it started. Nothing as melodramatic as that. He just never had a particular will to live. As far as he figured there would come a time when ‘Why?’ would outgrow ‘Just because’ and that would be it, he’d finish it.

Then he met Jared and everything changed.

Now leaving is what frightens him. Because of what it might do to Jared. And because, as hard as it’s been to admit to himself, he doesn’t really want to anymore. Leave, that is. Die. A world with Jared in it, is, despite its horrors, and nightmares and constant terror, preferable to an unknown afterworld without him.

But if he’s going to stay, if he’s going to soldier on without a suicide plan to fall back on if – or rather _when_ – things get to be too much, he needs to figure out how. Has to find a way to cope, to survive. To be a person Jared will not only be _able_ to live with but will actually _want_ to live with. Forever.

“Jared,” he breathes.

“Jared asked you to?” she says, not a change in her tone, like she doesn’t even notice that he’s talking, for the first time in her presence.

He shakes his head. Then puts his hand to his chest, palm flat, briefly closing his eyes before looking back at her.

She nods slowly. “That’s what made you want to get help? Because you fell in love?”

He shakes his head again. Then takes a deep breath and whispers hoarsely, “Want to live.”

She smiles and picks up her pen, writing something in her notebook before looking up at him again. “Then let’s figure out how.”

 

 

That’s what they’re working on, for now. Grooming him, or so it feels sometimes. Turns out he is in fact a rather horrible human being. Not that he didn’t know that, he just never realized people cared. It’s not like his opinion or attitude should matter to them.

“That’s not how it works,” Sam tells him patiently. “People want to feel validated. They need to feel that they matter. When you treat someone with disrespect you would think it just reflected upon you, showed _you_ in a bad light, as a rude jerk or just blind to your surroundings. But to that person it might feel as a reflection upon them. Like what you’re really saying is that they are not worthy of your respect.”

He frowns, thinking how illogical and stupid that is, but then he remembers Jared, how hurt and angry he’d been when Jensen had dismissed his anxiety. “I matter,” he’d said. “My feelings matter.” Like Jensen really thought Jared was worth less than him. That’s not what he meant! Every single hair on Jared’s head is worth more than Jensen’s whole being. How can he not know that?

And so he tries to be more considerate. To put himself in other people’s shoes. It’s damn hard work to tell the truth. He’s never realized how rude and thoughtless he comes across to other people when he’s just being his usual closed-off self. Staying out of people’s business in the hope that they stay out of his. It hasn’t earned him any friends, but it hasn’t earned him enemies either, just kept people at a comfortable distance once they’ve dismissed him as a rude jerk. But he never meant to make anyone feel actually bad. Never meant to take his issues out on innocent strangers. Whatever they might think, it was never like that.

“A lot of heartache can be avoided with something as simple as a smile. It puts people at ease, makes them not take things as seriously,” Sam tells him.

Like maybe he didn’t mean to jerk away from their touch, he was just startled. Maybe he bumped into them accidentally and wasn’t shoving them away, because they were so close he couldn’t breathe. Maybe he didn’t mean to ignore them, he just didn’t notice/hear/whatever fits the situation.

He’s not sure it’s working, mostly because he keeps forgetting to put the smile on, and when he does it’s too late and probably looks more forced than friendly, but at least he’s trying.

She also wants him to work on his own feelings of self worth. He’s not sure why. Maybe to invoke in him some deeper sense of survival. Make him feel he should stick around, because he has a place in society or some crap like that. He doesn’t really know. He’s supposed to stand in front of a mirror and tell himself he’s fabulous or whatever.

“Usually I try to encourage people to really shout it out but, hey, just think really loud,” she says with a small smile. He rolls his eyes, rolls them even more when she suggests he tries drawing himself as a nice, strong, _worthy_ person. “The kind of person you want to be. That you want people to see you as.”

So far he’s drawing blank. Literally. What the hell does a worthy person look like anyway? Like Jared probably. Concerned, kind, sweet. He tries to fit those things to himself, to integrate them into his features on paper, but he just ends up looking like one of those anime girls, all doe eyed and ridiculous.

Instead he starts thinking of how _Jared_ must see him. Quiet, of course. Crazy, yes. Bad tempered. Rude. Neurotic. Scared. Weak. Inferior.

It doesn’t feel good.


	10. Chapter 10

_ May 2008 _

__

 

_His mother tells him he had no interest in drawing before ‘it’ happened. That’s why they didn’t even think of it as a way of communicating when he stopped talking. It wasn’t until he got tired of his therapist nagging about writing that he finally grabbed a pencil and drew a pretty detailed picture of a naked woman, in the hope of shutting her up. To his surprise (and slight disappointment) she didn’t get angry or shocked. Instead she brought him a stack of paper and some real artist pencils and asked him if he wanted to try something new._

_He still really dislikes her but being here, learning from the best,_ being _the best in his class, better than most of his teachers even, he has to admit he probably has her to thank for his life not being a total waste._

 

\------------

Present day

“How’s he doing?”

Jared shrugs. “Okay, I think. He’s not saying much.” He smiles awkwardly, when Chad raises his eyebrows at him. “You know what I mean. He seems calmer though. Not staying up all nights. He looks better. Smiles more.”

“Speaking of nights, you moving in with the guy? Not that I’m complaining,” Chad adds, raising his hands quickly. “I like having the place to myself. Just wondering if I should box up your shit and send it over to your new love shack.”

Jared blushes. “Shut up. I’m not there all the time.”

“Dude, you slept in your own bed _once_ this whole last week. I’m surprised he’s not sick of you yet.”

Jared’s face falls. He looks over at where Jensen is showing a wide-eyed boy the basic structure for drawing faces.

“No, _middle_ ,” he’s saying, voice rough. He chuckles when the boy makes a face. “I know. Weird. Now...” He taps his nose, and the boy nods, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on getting the angle right.

It’s such a difference from just a couple of weeks ago when Jensen couldn’t even say hello to these kids and ended up choking on his tears, when a little girl crawled up on his lap and hugged him because, "You look sad. Don’t be sad."

He doesn’t look sad now. He looks relaxed, happy even. But that’s here, now, surrounded by the kids, doing the thing he loves. At home he’s quiet in a way that has nothing to do with words. He sits lost in thought, the pencil resting against the sketchbook on his knees, unmoving. He hasn’t touched his brushes in over a week. The easel stands bare and lonely in the corner, and the smell of paint is slowly being replaced by the more domestic scents of coffee, laundry and food.

It’s weird but Jared almost misses the anger that usually boiled underneath Jensen’s surface. At least then he could guess what Jensen was thinking. Now... Now he has no clue.

“You think I’m smothering him?” he asks quietly so Jensen won’t hear him.

“What? No!” Chad looks alarmed. “Dude, I was joking. The guy always looks like he can’t live without you. It’s really gross.”

“Haha. No, really. You think I’m being abnormally clingy?”

“Being abnormal is your normal state of being,” Chad says loftily, scowling when Jared kicks him in the shin. “Dude, I don’t know. Honestly, I’d be more worried about Chris having to share a home with you two lovebirds. Now there’s a guy I bet needs his brain bleached. I mean, I’ve seen your dick. Can’t imagine anyone being quiet getting that thing shoved up–”

“Shut up,” Jared says, his face heating. “I don’t–” He cuts himself off but it’s too late. Chad is looking at him, all signs of boredom evaporated.

“You don’t what?” he asks, eyebrows crawling even further up his forehead when Jared glares at him. “Nooo. You’re kidding, right? Dude, you sleep in the same bed. Every fucking night. How the hell aren’t you fucking his brains out on a regular basis?”

“Will you shut up?” Jared hisses. “There are kids here, okay? And...” He jerks his head in Jensen’s direction, eyebrows raised.

Chad shakes his head. “And I thought I had it bad. At least I do my pining from a distance.”

“I’m not pining!” Jared growls. “I’m just... taking it slowly.”

“No kidding. Dude, you’ve been together for months, and you’re still not banging the guy?”

Okay, that was a little too loud. Jared closes his eyes, steeling himself before risking a glance over. Jensen is sitting completely still, ignoring the boy that’s tugging at his sleeve, asking for help. He looks pale, his jaw is clenched, and there’s so much tension in his shoulders his t-shirt is all bunched up. Shit.

“Asshole,” Jared hisses at Chad and quickly gets up from the booth. “I told you to shut up!”

Chad raises his hands in apology, looking slightly uncomfortable. He’s lucky Jared doesn’t punch him in the face. Instead he walks over to Jensen, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his thumb along Jensen’s neck when he doesn’t even look up. “Coffee break?”

For a moment he thinks Jensen is going to shrug him off or, even worse, get up and punch him, but then he suddenly nods and stands up, giving the disappointed kid a tight smile. He opens his mouth, to offer the boy a word of encouragement no doubt, but ends up coughing instead and Jared feels like shit, because he knows it’s his fault. His and Chad’s big mouth.

He stands waiting as Jensen points out a few things that need correcting, using his own face to show the boy where he’s slightly off. It hardly seems fair, Jared thinks, considering how insanely pretty Jensen’s face is. Even Botticelli would have had trouble getting it right.

They walk over to where Sophia is working the cocoa train and Jensen gets behind the counter, impatiently pushing her out of the way so he can make their coffee. “Hey!” she exclaims, just as Jared warns him, “Dude!”

Jensen freezes. He looks up, blinking slowly, then steps abruptly back, hands falling limp by his side as if he’d just realized how rude he’d been. Which is weird, because normally he’d just roll his eyes and flip them the finger, not bothered at all.

“Jeez,” Sophia says annoyed. “Could have just asked me to move.” She throws him a glare, but it changes into concern when she sees the look on his face. “Jensen, are you all right?”

He looks a little lost for a moment then nods and gestures awkwardly at the espresso machine.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she says, still watching him carefully as she dries her hands on a dishtowel. “You taking a break?”

“Yeah,” Jared answers for him. “Gonna get some air. It’s getting a bit stuffy in here.”

It’s not a lie. The windows are steamed up, like these small bodies with their snow-wet coats hanging on the chairs and with mugs of warm cocoa in their hands produce more heat than the usual adult crowd. Jared thinks it might be their unbounded energy, both physical and emotional, that somehow fills the place, like small fireballs of sunshine.

Jensen makes their coffee in silence, and Jared is relieved when he takes a sip of his macchiato, and it tastes just as amazing as always. At least Jensen isn’t mad enough to sabotage his coffee. He gets his jacket and pulls the beanie over his head, and by the time he has his gloves on Jensen is ready, a cup of his regular double-shot in hand. His face is unreadable, and it makes Jared want to throttle Chad all over again. And kick himself for thinking talking to Chad about anything was a good idea.

They stroll down the street. The frosted snow – a product of last night’s wet snowfall and an exceptionally cold morning – crackles beneath their feet, the air is crisp, and the light breeze is cold enough to numb Jared’s nose. He shivers, the cold easily slipping through the threads of his thin jacket despite the thick hoodie and the long-sleeved t-shirt underneath. There’s a soreness scratching at his throat, and irritation tickling the inside of his nose. Great. Just what he needs. He can’t afford missing more days at school. He definitely can’t afford any medication if it comes down to that.

Jensen walks silently by his side, sipping his coffee, his free hand stuffed into the pocket of his thick coat. A clear message if there ever was one. Jared is tempted to throw his arm over Jensen’s shoulders anyway, just to show he won’t be so easily dismissed, but he doesn’t really feel he’s earned it.

“That, what you heard? That was not what it sounded like,” he finally says. He tries for a smile, but Jensen won’t even look at him. “I wasn’t complaining. Hell, I wasn’t even talking about it at all. Chad just jumped to conclusions like always. He’s an ass, okay?” There’s no response. “Can you please just look at me, man?”

Jensen stops. He stands still, eyes on the pavement stretching in front of them, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. When he finally turns and looks at Jared it feels like a slap in the face. Hurt and disgust and anger all mixed together in the depth of his eyes.

“I want...” Jensen says, voice rough. He starts coughing and clears his throat, taking a sip from his coffee before trying again. “Fuck me,” he forces out. “Tonight. Just _do_ it.”

Jared’s heart sinks. “Jensen, come on. Don’t be like that...”

Jensen shakes his head. “Tonight,” he repeats then averts his eyes. Swallows. “Get it over with.”

“Jesus!” Jared says exasperated. “No! I’m not gonna fuck you just to ‘get it over with’. That’s not what I want, okay?” He sighs when Jensen stares stubbornly at some spot to his right, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’d rather not have sex ever again than fuck you because you’re feeling fucking obligated. God, you’re so stupid sometimes.”

Jensen’s head snaps up, eyes burning. His face twists into an angry sneer and he throws his cup away, splattering coffee all over the grayish snow. “Y-you...” he struggles, jabbing his finger in Jared’s face.

“ _I’m_ stupid?” Jared says incredulous. “Why am _I_ stupid? Because I turned down your offer of pity rape? Come on, man! What the fuck did you think I’d say? Thank you? You fucking moron.”

Jensen glares at him. “Not for you. Not about _you_!”

“That’s rich...” Jared starts before it hits him. “What? What are you talking about?”

“ _I_ want-” Jensen closes his eyes, breathing sharply through his nose before opening them again and fixing his gaze on Jared. “ _I_ want it. I _want_ it. I’m tired of being...” He throws up his hands in frustration when he gets stuck again. He points at Jared with his right hand and himself with the other then flattens his hands, leveling them in the air before abruptly lowering the left one.

Oh. “You think we’re not equal?”

Jensen raises his eyebrow, gazing at him intently. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just tired, and frustrated and a little defeated.

“Jensen, it’s not a competition. If anything you’re up here, and I’m the one down there. Bottoming?” he points out when Jensen frowns at him.

Jensen rolls his eyes. He lays a hand on his chest then holds it out, palm down, shaking it like a leaf about to fall. Then points at Jared and makes a fist, pumping it in triumph.

Jared breathes out, thankfully managing to keep back an exasperated laugh at just how _ridiculous_ Jensen is being.

“Seriously, that’s what you think? Dude, I have _no_ idea what I’m doing half the time. Remember Friday? I ripped two condoms before I got one on you because my hands shook so much. And then I grabbed the lube too hard and squirted it all over the wall. And yesterday I almost choked on your come because apparently I can’t tell the difference between swallowing and breathing. So not exactly Ron Jeremy over here. Or whoever is the king of gay porn.”

He sighs when Jensen doesn’t even smile. “Jen, you’ll get there. It just takes time, that’s all.” Jensen just purses his lips, so Jared risks reaching out for him, pulling him close when Jensen doesn’t flinch away. “I know you’re impatient,” he murmurs into Jensen’s hair, “but forcing it before you’re ready might set us back to square one. I’m in no hurry. I like what we have. And I know you don’t think it’s _that_ bad.”

Jensen blows a snort into Jared’s ear, and he chuckles.

“Besides, I’m a slow learner. I think you might have to show me how it’s done a few more times, before _I_ feel ready.”

Jensen huffs but when he pulls back he doesn’t look quite as irritated, although maybe a little disappointed. He reaches up, pulling Jared down for a soft kiss before reluctantly letting him go.

Jared grins. “Too bad about your coffee,” he says.

Jensen frowns before looking over at where his nice double espresso has painted the snow dark brown. His face falls. He looks like a sad kid watching its bright balloon disappear among the clouds, and Jared can’t help smiling.

“You can have mine,” he offers.

Jensen grimaces in disgust. Obviously in his opinion milk and sugar kill his precious coffee.

“Or we can go back, you can make a new one, we take it to the back room and make out until the kids drive Chris crazy.”

Jensen’s face instantly brightens, like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. Even if they both know the minute he steps through the door those kids will be on him like flies, demanding he draws them pictures and helps them with their paintings. They also both know he wouldn’t have it any other way. As much as Jensen does love making out, Jared suspects he might love the time spent with those kids just a little bit more.

\-------------

“Chris is gonna kill us,” Jared pants as they haul the big pine tree onto the truck. “No way this will fit into the apartment.”

From behind the thick branches of evergreen he hears Jensen laugh, and a wide smile spreads across his face. Screw Chris. Anything that can get Jensen to laugh like that is worth the shit they’re gonna catch for buying the biggest damn tree in the whole lot. Besides, Jared needs all the Christmas cheer he can get. Three weeks until Christmas, and the fact that he won’t be spending it with his family, will _never again_ spend it with his family, is killing him.

“Do you even have enough decorations for this beast?” he continues, forgetting for a moment that he can’t actually see Jensen. He hears a strangled cough and mentally smacks his own forehead. “Hold on, let me just...”

He finishes securing the tree with the piece of rope Chris always keeps in the back of his truck then walks around, checking as he goes to make sure it’s secure enough that it won’t fall off on the way home. Jensen is tying the last knot, gloves shoved into his pocket, his cheeks pink from the cold. When Jared touches his arm, Jensen turns his head, and Jared’s met with wide green eyes that practically sparkle with amusement, and a smile that he would give his life to see every day.

“Hey,” Jared says, smiling softly. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever. Right?”

Jensen grins then pulls him down for a kiss. His hands are cold on Jared’s neck, his nose even colder where it rubs against Jared’s, but his mouth is so hot Jared can feel his whole body heating up, just from swallowing Jensen’s warm breath. By the time they pull apart they’re both flushed for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold, and Jared figures they either get in the car now or get arrested for indecent exposure involving a Christmas tree.

He has to drive slowly, the truck bed isn’t that big and one too many deep potholes might compromise the whole structure. Jensen is quiet beside him, the earlier passion simmered down to a pleasant humming in their bones. Just as well, chances are Chris and Sophia will be home anyway when they get there.

Once they’ve dumped the tree at the apartment and helped a grumbling Chris and a giggling Sophia to get it inside, they spend the rest of the day on the town, being ridiculously romantic.

They have brunch while playing footsy under the table. They go to the mall, arms around each other as they stroll from shop to shop, picking up a crapload of ugly decorations for the tree while trying to figure out what to get their friends for Christmas. They share an ice cream cone then kiss each other’s mouths warm again. They laugh and smile more than they’ve done in weeks, if ever. Jared babbles on about all and nothing, and Jensen nods and smiles and murmurs vague noises that sometime make it into words.

He looks relaxed and happy, like his shadows are finally letting him out of their clutches, and all through the day he keeps shooting Jared these wicked smiles that have heat firing up in his stomach. Sure enough, when Jared comes out of the bathroom that night he’s greeted by a naked Jensen lying spread-eagled on the bed, teeth biting into his lip, eyes watching Jared with hopeful anticipation. At Jared’s stunned look, Jensen spreads his legs even further and raises his eyebrow in invitation.

For a moment Jared feels blindsided. He thought they’d agreed neither of them were ready for that yet? Without thinking he takes a step backward as he tries to make sense of the situation. Jensen’s gaze drops, his face flushing, but he looks more discouraged than bashful. With that something clicks in Jared’s brain. Jensen’s talk of not feeling equal. His frustration these last couple of weeks, all the weird things he’s been doing, coming on and then suddenly backing off, turning Jared in circles with all his mixed signals. It’s not because he’s suddenly unsure of what he’s doing, it’s because he’s been waiting for Jared to pick up wherever he leaves off.

Jared walks slowly over, unsure how to proceed. He’s never been the one in charge. What if he does something wrong and consequently scars Jensen for life? He’s not sure Jensen can actually take much more scarring. But the closer he gets the more hopeful Jensen looks, and by the time Jared is standing by the bed Jensen is staring at him with raw need in his eyes, and he doesn’t flinch in the slightest when Jared crawls over and starts kissing him.

He keeps to the basics, putting into practice all the things Jensen usually does to him, and he’s filed away in the back of his mind for future use. Kissing his way down Jensen’s neck, his chest, sucking on each nipple before moving on. He licks down Jensen’s stomach, keeping an eye on his face to make sure the hitches in his breath and the rippling of muscles is from pleasure, not fear. He spends a generous time licking Jensen’s cock, his balls, the soft skin of his perineum. Sucks him in and swallows him down, hands on Jensen’s hips holding him still. It’s not much of a restraint, but it’s still more than Jensen has ever allowed, and it takes all of Jared’s will not to back off the moment Jensen starts trembling. Jensen’s hand fumbles for Jared’s hair, and Jared waits for him to grab a handful or even yank him away, but all he does is curve his fingers through it. He’s breathing heavily, small sounds escaping from his lips that drive Jared insane.

When Jensen pulls his knees up, Jared only hesitates a moment before slipping Jensen’s dick out of his mouth. He shifts further down, sticks out his tongue and slides it down Jensen’s perineum all the way to...

With a strangled cry Jensen slams his legs down, one knee missing Jared’s eye by mere inches. Jared instantly jerks away, thinking ‘Shit, shit, shit’ right until the moment Jensen comes all over his face. Jensen is shaking, his body is covered in sweat, and his eyes are wide with the beginning of panic, but he also looks surprised as hell.

“You okay?” Jared asks, for now ignoring Jensen’s come dripping off his nose.

Jensen stares at him. He blinks slowly, then his face goes beet red, and he waves his hand at Jared’s face, cringing in obvious mortification.

Jared grins. “Quite an aim you’ve got there. Only just missed the eye.” He laughs when Jensen turns even redder then groans as a drop he hadn’t noticed slips down along his lashes. “Ugh, be right back.”

He jumps off the bed and goes into the bathroom, washing his face and rinsing his eye with cold water. Damn, that stings. When he comes back Jensen is sitting up in bed, looking awkward and shy, but he’s biting his lip to keep from smiling.

“So I guess that worked,” Jared says with a grin as he crawls back into bed. “Well, mostly.” He pretends he doesn’t notice Jensen cringing. “Is it the first time anyone’s touched you there? That you know of,” he adds as casually as he can.

Jensen looks away, fingers curling into fists. He nods.

“I figured.” He can feel Jensen start to pull away but he doesn’t let him, arm heavy across his waist. “You want to try again later?”

Jensen hesitates only a moment before giving another nod.

Jared looks up and smiles at him. “Okay. But for now, how about you suck my dick?”

Jensen stares at him, clearly taken aback, but then a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and without preamble he pushes Jared over on his back before sliding down the bed. He doesn’t even flinch when Jared slips his fingers into his hair and holds on tight.

\--------------

“You sure?”

Jensen nods into the pillow. He’s sure. He can do this.

He holds his breath as Jared kisses his way slowly down his spine, lips pressing gently into the knotted groove. Lower, lower...

Jared runs his tongue lightly down the narrowing valley, and Jensen starts to shake, his heart hammering in his chest. Every single nerve in his body is screaming at him to run. ‘Now! Before it’s too late. Go!’ He presses his face into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisted in the sheet.

Jared hums in encouragement, his tongue slipping a little further down. He elbows Jensen’s knees, pushing them wider apart, and Jensen’s world tilts on its side. He feels like he’s falling, tumbling into a dark, dark room. He can smell it. Sweat and blood and...

Hands palm his ass, spreading the cheeks. “That’s it. So good,” someone murmurs, and that’s it, he’s gone.

It takes him half an hour to remember where he is and when. By then Jared has brought most of the swelling down by holding a bag of frozen peas to his nose. He says it’s okay, it hardly even hurts at all, but when Jensen touches the bridge of Jared’s nose hesitantly with his fingers Jared flinches in pain. He waves off Jensen’s apology, just keeps asking if Jensen is okay. He looks guilty and a little nauseated, like it’s all his fault which is stupid because one, it’s not and two, it’s not like Jensen can even remember freaking out, so there’s no need to make a big deal out of it. He’s embarrassed enough as it is.

 

 

He thought it couldn’t get worse until they try again three nights later, and he wakes up cold and naked, curled up in the corner of the room, with the bed stripped clean, and Jared sitting quietly on the couch, nursing a beer and a split lip.

“I tried to offer you a blanket,” he says softly when Jensen gets to his feet, teeth rattling, skin covered in goose bumps, “but you kinda... didn’t want me to.” He won’t meet Jensen’s eyes.

Jensen swallows. He stumbles to the bathroom on shaky legs and sets the shower as hot as he can take it. Jesus, he stinks.

Shit. Why the hell is he being like this? Stupid fucking psycho brain.

‘I want this!’ he’d tell the damn kid if he just knew how to reach him. ‘I want this, you fucking moron. Stay out of my head. I’m not you. I’m not you anymore, don’t you get that? Don’t you fucking get that?’

Well, he’s not gonna let that stupid kid win. He can do this. He can.

 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Jensen, it’s okay. We don’t have to. Sshh, sshh, hey. Hey, look at me. Jensen, it’s okay. It’s okay. I love you. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I don’t care. I don’t care, I promise. I don’t need that. I just need you. I just need you.”

 

Crap.

\----------

 

The minute Jared opens the door to the dorm room and sees the look on Chad’s face he knows it was a mistake coming there, even just for a change of clothes.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Chad says, staring at him.

Jared sighs. “Don’t. It’s not what you think.”

“Yeah?” Chad stands up and walks over, anger in every step. He stares up at Jared with disgust, shaking his head. “Well, I think your psycho boyfriend is using you as a punching bag, that’s what I think. Give me another _believable_ explanation, and I might listen to it before I call the fucking cops!”

“Chad, shut up, okay? It’s not like that. Besides, it’s just a shiner. No big deal.” Jared runs his fingers through his hair, flinching when the sleeve of his jacket touches the bruise around his eye.

“That’s not just a fucking shiner. Have you seen your nose, man? Your _lip_? Jesus!”

“Let it go. It’s nothing. It’s...” He swallows. “It’s me. I keep freaking him out.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chad says incredulous. “ _He’s_ the damn psycho! He’s the one–”

“No, he’s not,” Jared cuts him off. “It’s not him. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” Jared sinks down on the bed, head in his hands. He feels sick all of a sudden. “Jesus, Chad, it’s me. I’m trying to have sex with a ten-year-old, that’s what I’m doing.”

Chad goes absolutely still. “What?”

“Every time I touch him like that he just... He goes back. Every time. And suddenly it’s not him anymore, it’s this kid. This terrified, screaming kid, and it’s me, _I’m_ the one molesting him.”

“Jesus.” Chad takes a step closer, uncertain. “That... that’s when he hits you?”

Jared hitches his breath. “Yeah. He doesn’t mean to. Pure dumb luck he even gets a punch in the way he flails. He has no idea what he’s doing, it’s all just blind instinct, kicking and screaming, trying to get away.” His voice breaks, and he falls back on the bed, forearm slung over his eyes. “He doesn’t remember any of it when he comes to his senses. He doesn’t... He doesn’t get how fucking devastating it is, seeing him like that. How disgusting it is being the one who...” His breath hitches. “He just keeps insisting we try again. I don’t want to try again. I can’t. God, Chad, I can’t do this.”

There’s silence for a long time and then he feels Chad sit down on the bed beside him, hand hesitantly touching his arm. “Then don’t. Explain to him what the fuck he’s doing to you. Tell him it has to stop. Shit, Jared. He’s abusing you, okay. This is sexual abuse.”

Jared moves his arm from his eyes, staring up at Chad in horror. “What? No! He’s not–”

“Dude, he’s asking you for something you don’t want to do. Something that is seriously freaking you out. That’s as much sexual abuse as... well, as anything. You have to tell him no.”

“But...”

“No. Go there now and tell him. Tell him you don’t want to put your dick in his ass.” Chad groans. “That’s not a sentence I ever want to have to say again.”

Jared blinks. He swallows. “He wants this so much. I don’t know what to tell him.”

Chad sighs. “Just tell him it’s not working. That it’s you, not him. Tell him you’re more of a bottom. That you, I don’t know, feel all empty without his big cock in you. Jesus. Why are you making me say all this stuff?” He shudders. “Just go talk to him.”

Jared lies staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he nods and slowly gets to his feet. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” He gives Chad a small smile. “Bet you wish I really had died and left you with a single room for the year.”

“You kidding me?” Chad says with grin. “Your love life is like one exciting gay soap opera. Without you I never would have even known about the prostate. Did you know you can buy these butt plugs that...”

“Okay, gotta go,” Jared says quickly. “Thanks again. I’ll call you.” He pretends he doesn’t hear Chad’s protests, promising him pointers on just how to “...reach that special place yourself. Jared, it’s amazing! Jared?”

 


	11. Chapter 11

_ May 2009 _

__

 

_“Where have you been? Jensen, hey! Look at me! I’ve been worried sick about you. Where the hell were you?”_

_Jensen shrugs him off irritated. He kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the couch. The rest of his clothes follow, dropped one by one on his way to the bathroom._

_“Jensen, what the hell…? Is that…? Why is there a bruise on your neck? Who did that?”_

_Jensen rolls his eyes. He’s still got his jeans on and he doesn’t need to look down to know the knees are wet and dirty. As far as he’s concerned that’s all the explanation Chris needs._

_“Jesus! Jensen, what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just... Why are you doing this to yourself?”_

_Chris sounds so broken that Jensen feels a small sting of guilt but he pushes it away. It’s his fucking life. He can do whatever the hell he wants. He kicks off his jeans, deliberately turning around so Chris can see the finger-shaped bruises on his hips. Chris curses but he doesn’t storm out and slam the door like Jensen expected him to. Instead he sinks down to sit on the toilet, head in his hands._

_Jensen turns on the shower and steps under the spray, head bowed to keep the water from hitting his face. He pretends he doesn’t hear Chris crying._

 

\------------

Present day

Jensen can feel it the minute he walks in. She greets him the same way as usual. The same smile, the same prodding look, trying to read his mood. But there’s a glint in her eye that he doesn’t like, and a determined strength in her movements as she gestures him to sit down.

“Well, Jensen,” she says after a while of their usual silent staring, him with the sketchbook on his knees, and her with her little notebook, their respective pen and pencil raised for battle. “I think maybe it’s time we got down to business.”

He goes absolutely still. Listens to his heart speed up in his chest. To the voice in his head yelling at him to get the hell out of there while he still has a chance.

“I know you don’t want to, but this, what we’ve been doing? As much as it’s helping, it’s like putting a bandage on a bullet wound. We need to get that bullet out. And the first step is to talk about it. To really talk about what happened to you.”

Jensen looks away. It’s what he’s here for, right? To find a way to deal. And he can’t... He can’t deal if he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be dealing with.

She studies him thoughtfully. “You have a rather remarkable brain, Jensen,” she finally says. “It has gone to extreme lengths to protect you from what it deems too traumatic for you. Including erasing memories of what it felt like to be a happy, carefree child before your trauma, probably so you wouldn’t know what you were missing.”

He huffs, his stomach twisting. And what, is he supposed to be grateful? His brain thinks he’s a spineless wuss! How’s that supposed to make him feel?

“I can see you’re not too impressed,” she says with a smile, “but it really shows how strong you are, having been able to maintain that protection for so long. However it may seem, your brain is doing what it believes to be best for you. It’s not a measure of your strength or weakness, Jensen, it’s in correlation with the severity of what your mind is trying to protect you from.”

Jensen’s hand jumps where it rests on the sketchbook, the pencil scratching deep lines into the soft paper. He stares at her. That’s what’s different. She knows. He doesn’t know how she found out, but she definitely knows. And that means… That means he’s about to learn the truth. And he can tell by the pain she’s trying to hide behind those calm eyes, at the slight tension in her body making her breathe a little louder, that it’s not going to be pretty.

He feels like he’s being dragged down into deep water, the pressure in his ears whooshing in sync with the rapid beating of his heart. Like there’s a weight on his chest, pressing him down into the couch. Crushing him. Making it impossible to breathe. He knew, he’s always known, of course he’s known. But still a part of him thought that maybe, maybe...

“What do _you_ think happened to you?” she asks quietly.

Jensen shakes his head. He can’t... He can’t do this. He stands up abruptly, throwing the sketchbook aside and walking over to one of the windows, the one with the fire escape. He looks up at the darkening sky, the pale stars twinkling in the twilight. Breathes in. Breathes out. Closes his eyes then opens them again and looks down at the small park across the street. There are children there, playing. He stands still, watching them.

“Jensen?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you want to go home and think about it? I won’t charge for today,” she adds when he hesitates. “Let’s just consider the appointment rescheduled.”

He nods, then lays a hand on his chest before pointing at the door in case he wasn’t clear enough. His eyes are still on the park below. There’s a little girl in a red snow suit, trying to make snowballs out of the meager drift. It’s not going too well. If he was down there he’d tell her to make a snow angel instead. He likes snow angels.

“Okay. I can see you again after hours on Friday. Same time, five o’clock.”

He nods again. He looks down at the street and there is Chris’s truck, parked by the sidewalk. Jensen closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again he can finally breathe.

“Jensen, I know this is really hard for you. I can’t even imagine how hard.” Her voice is quiet but her words still cut into him. “But ignoring what you know is the root of your problems isn’t doing you any good either. That’s why you came here. Because ignoring it wasn’t working anymore.”

He nods stiffly, turns around and walks out.

 

 

Jensen wakes up shaking, his skin glistening in the pale moonlight. For a moment he’s terrified that he might have wet the bed again but it’s just sweat, just buckets and buckets of sweat, soaking the sheets and pillow and even the covers he’s got clutched in his fists. He rolls out of bed, but his legs are tangled in the wet sheets and he falls to the floor, flat on his face.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Jensen? Shit, man, you okay?”

He panics. He hits, hits-hits-hits, until his arms are grabbed and he’s held back by strong fingers circling his wrists. There’s a voice talking, all smooth and calm, but he won’t listen. He won’t. He won’t! He lets himself go limp then shoots back up when the person holding him follows. There’s a yelp as he makes a solid hit with the top of his head, and then he’s finally loose. Frantic he scrambles across the floor, searching for a way out. Where’s the door? _Where’s the door_? Oh please, please, please.

“Jensen! Stop. Jensen, calm down. It’s me. It’s Jared. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

The room is suddenly flooded in bright light and Jensen squeezes his eyes shut then carefully opens them again. There’s a large shadow looming over him, head crowned by the bright ceiling light, but just as he’s about to start screaming the shadow drops, and Jared is crouching in front of him.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice a little rough. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

Jensen stares at him. His breathing is loud and wheezing in the quiet room. Jared?

Jared shuffles back to a bundle of clothes lying on the floor by the bed, picking them up then crawls to Jensen again. “Here,” he says, pushing the clothes across.

Jensen blinks. He looks down. He’s naked, his knees are red from scrambling across the floor, and his body is covered in particles of dust and flakes of paint, stuck to his sweat-damp skin. Oh. He snatches the clothes from Jared’s hand and pulls on the t-shirt then backs further away before standing up and putting on his jeans, keeping one eye on Jared the whole time. It’s Jared; he knows it’s Jared, but his heart is still racing, his whole body is set to run-run-run, and he can’t lower his guard. Not yet, not yet.

“You want me to call Chris?” Jared asks quietly. Jensen hesitates. “It’s okay, I’ll call him if you want me to.”

Jensen shakes his head. What’s Chris gonna do, other than fuss over him and worry until he drives Jensen insane?

“Okay. You want to come back to bed?” Jensen shudders. “All right. You want to talk about what happened? Did I...? Was I touching you?”

Jensen shakes his head. Jared’s been keeping his distance, saying maybe they should take it easy on that front. “Just step back a bit, see if it helps.” Jensen doubts anything helps, but he can’t really blame Jared for being wary. Not the way the damn kid keeps kicking Jared in the face all the time. It still hurts though, being rejected. It’s not like they ever thought this would be easy, but he didn’t expect Jared to just give up like that.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Jared asks quietly.

Jensen nods. The voice. That fucking voice. God, he hates that voice. So sickly sweet and coaxing, and then suddenly, without warning, it goes hard, and mocking and hateful. Sometimes it screams at him. Sometimes it laughs. He really hates it when it laughs.

_“Oh, my sweet boy, I can’t wait! Do you know what’s the first thing I’m gonna do, once she’s told you? Show you. Show you everything. Every little thing. I’m gonna crawl into that pretty little brain of yours, and we’ll have a private party, just you and me. Won’t that be fun?”_

Jensen gulps for air, bile rising in his throat. It doesn’t work like that. Does it? His memories can’t just be restored like that. Right? Right?

“Come on,” Jared says gently. “How about I make us some coffee?”

He doesn’t wait for Jensen to answer, doesn’t reach for him or pull him along to the kitchen. Just goes and finds his boxers, pulls them on as well as his jeans and then pads over on bare feet to the kitchen and starts making coffee, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, having breakfast at four o’clock in the morning or whatever time it is.

Jensen stands trembling for a moment then walks over and climbs up on one of the stools by the breakfast island. He hugs his chest, shivering, and as if on cue Jared glances over his shoulder, brows drawn together in worry. He fetches his hoodie and drapes it over Jensen’s shoulders before going back to what he was doing. Jensen slips his arms into the sleeves and tugs the sweater tight around him. It smells like Jared.

“I could make pancakes. Not sure I actually know _how_ to make pancakes, but I can try. I mean, how hard can it be? If Chris can do it… I think we might even have some frozen blueberries in the freezer. They’re not as good as fresh but...”

Jared’s soothing voice, still rough with sleep, lulls Jensen calm. He breathes in the fresh smell of coffee and Jared’s deodorant. Watches Jared fuss over the stove, the way his hair keeps falling into his eyes, the dimple in his cheek that deepens every time he shoots Jensen a soft smile.

The still visible swelling of Jared’s nose. The shiner that has people stopping in the street, staring at him. What looks like the beginning of a pretty impressive bump on Jared’s forehead.

Jensen swallows. That fucking kid. He’s so sick of him taking over all the time. Fucking hates him for hurting Jared like that, for putting that hesitant look in Jared’s eyes every time he leans over for a kiss, like he’s worried it will earn him another punch in the face.

‘C’mon, Jared. It’s not me,’ Jensen wants to say. ‘You don’t have to be scared of _me_.’ But Jared already knows that. Right? He has to. He has to know Jensen would never ever hurt him if he could help it.

Right?

“I was thinking,” Jared says suddenly, back still turned. “Maybe I should stay over at the dorm for the rest of the week.” He coughs and clears his throat as if he’s embarrassed. “I’ve got a huge ass paper to finish plus half a dozen books to read. I’ll probably be staying up all night anyway. Wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

Jensen sucks in his breath. He opens his mouth then closes it again, swallowing the lump in his throat. When Jared gives him a hesitant glance over the shoulder he nods and tries to smile.

Guess that answers that question. Seems it doesn’t matter who’s at the wheel, it’s still his body doing the damage.

\------------

Jared fumbles for his phone, squinting with gritty eyes at the small screen as he turns off the alarm. He clears his throat, and it turns into a cough that has him gasping for air. His chest feels like someone is sitting on it. His throat hurts, and he thinks his cold might have moved on to his sinuses, because his head is killing him. Great.

His bed feels small and empty, and it smells of stale sweat. He can hear Chad snoring on the other side of the room.

Jared stares up at the ceiling, counting the cracks as he waits in vain for his head to clear. He’s starting to agree with Jensen’s assessment of the dorm, at least compared to his and Chris’s warm, bright, and nice-smelling apartment.

But it’s not like Jared can just move in with them. He’s not paying rent or buying groceries or contributing in any way to the household. It feels awkward, being there all the time, eating their food, using their shower and washing machine. When Chris joked about needing to double their grocery budget, “now that we’ve got Sasquatch here,” Jared figured it was time he spent some time at his own place. He hates being seen as a moocher; it’s bad enough that Jensen keeps giving him coffee and all kinds of pastry every time he goes to The Black Bean. He’s pretty sure Sophia knows about it, which makes the whole thing so much more embarrassing. But it’s hard to say no when it smells so good, and his stomach is growling.

As if on cue his stomach rumbles and pinches his side. Jared sighs. He rolls reluctantly out of bed and finds his clothes from the day before. They smell too. He really needs to do laundry.

There’s an apple and week-old yoghurt in the fridge that he thinks belongs to Chad. He chomps down the apple and spits out the disgusting, might-actually-have-been-a-month-old yoghurt before throwing the cup in the trash.

The sky is dark, and the air is freezing, and as Jared stumbles his way to class he dreams of crawling into Jensen’s warm bed and sleeping for a decade. He just feels so tired all the time. Tired and achy and listless. He stayed up half the night reading and finishing that damn paper that was due yesterday, and then, when he finally crashed into bed, the rest of it was spent tossing and turning while coughing his throat raw.

Maybe he can catch a quick nap after his classes before going to pick up Jensen for his appointment. Jensen who’s being all strange and withdrawn, hardly meeting Jared’s eyes and shrugging off any attempt Jared makes at small talk. Jared’s not sure what that’s about. According to Chris, Jensen’s been having problems sleeping, getting up in the middle of the night to draw sketches that he hides as soon as Chris makes as if to get out of bed.

Maybe it’s therapy stuff. Jared wishes he knew what was going on in that place, what it is they talk about, Jensen and that woman. Sometimes when he’s waiting in the truck he looks up to see a dark figure in one of the windows, like someone is staring down at him. He thinks it might be Jensen, it’s the right floor after all, but it’s hard to tell in the dark with the soft light from the room turning the man into merely a shadow.

It starts snowing, heavy wet snowflakes that melt the moment they land on his skin. Jared shivers and draws up his shoulder, trying to bury his neck in the collar of his jacket. He stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jeans and hurries on, being careful not to lose his footing on the slippery sidewalk.

“Only two weeks until Christmas vacation. Only two weeks until Christmas vacation,” he mutters like a mantra under his breath. It doesn’t really make him feel any better.

\-------------

The door bursts open with such force it bounces off the wall and slams into Jensen’s shoulder as he storms in. It hurts but he’s too pissed off to care. The folder lands with a loud bang on the low table.

“Hello to you too, Jensen,” Sam says, infuriatingly calm.

He glares at her and waves a hand at the folder, daring her to open it. ‘This is what you made me do,’ he gestures. ‘Look at it. _Look_ at it!’

“Why don’t you sit down first?”

He clenches his jaw then sits down with a huff, arms crossed over his chest.

“You look tired,” she says, not sparing the folder a glance. “You’re not sleeping?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and points at the folder then jabs his finger at her accusingly. ‘Your fault! You wanted me to think about it and now I can’t stop! It’s fucking up my life. It’s fucking up my relationship with Jared. Your fucking fault!’

She raises her eyebrows at him. “I’m taking it you’re not talking to me unless I look at these first?” He gives her a tight sarcastic smile. “Did you do these in answer to my question? About what you think happened to you?”

He doesn’t even dignify that with a nod just sits waiting, lips a thin line. After a while she drops the gaze and leans forward, picking up the folder.

He sits silent, eyes on the darkening sky outside the window as she snaps the folder open and starts flipping through his work. He can hear cars outside, five stories below, that’s how quiet the room is. He tries to pick out the rumble of Chris’s truck, proof that Jared is somewhere down there, waiting, but he can’t. It doesn’t mean anything, chances are he’s parked with the engine turned off. It’s not like he’s... gone.

Jensen stands up, walks over to the window and looks down. There the truck is, in the parking lot across the street. He can make out the dark form of Jared behind the wheel, head leaning against the window. Maybe he’s nodding off. He’d looked tired, like he’s not sleeping any better than Jensen. Well, that’s what Jared wanted, Jensen thinks bitterly, to sleep alone. Who cares that Jensen’s been dealing with all this heavy shit and really needed Jared to be there?

Or maybe it’s the cold that Jared’s been battling these last few weeks, Jensen thinks with a small tinge of guilt. Seems it’s refusing to release him from its clutches. Now Jensen thinks of it, Jared even looked a little glassy eyed when he picked him up at The Black Bean earlier. He hadn’t really paid attention to it, not with all this crap going on, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jared has a fever.

Jensen lays his palm against the window, just for a second. It leaves a sweaty print on the cool glass. He turns away and walks back to the couch. Sits down. Waits.

She looks up after what seems like an eternity, and he feels a gratifying tingle at seeing a glimpse of discomfort in her eyes. It’s only there for a second, and then the calm professional look is back, but he knows what he saw, and it’s cruelly satisfying. ‘You wanted answers, lady. Well, you’ve got them, right there. Now how do _you_ feel?’

She purses her lips in thought then slowly starts laying the drawings and paintings out on the table, like cards of horror. Jensen watches, until he can’t fake his indifference anymore and looks away, hands curled into fists in his lap.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/247671/247671_original.jpg)

“Have you been staying up at nights, doing these? Are they what’s been keeping you from sleeping?”

He shrugs. More or less. Like this morning he’d slipped out of bed around two and got so immersed in his work he didn’t even notice Chris getting up five hours later.

She nods, thoughtful. “Are any of these based on memory? Flashbacks?” He shakes his head. “This is purely your imagination?” He nods, starting to get annoyed. What, like that isn’t bad enough?

“Jensen, do you watch sexually violent movies or TV shows?” He frowns, not sure what she’s getting at. “ _Law and Order_? _Oz_? Shows where rape is frequently a part of the plot.”

He shakes his head, grimacing. No, he turns off the TV as soon as there’s even a hint of anything like that happening.

“Do you like to watch porn?”

He blushes, averting his eyes. He’s seen some, but he can’t say he goes looking for it. It makes him uncomfortable, which he knows is weird for a guy his age. He’s never wanted to dwell on why.

She’s waiting for an answer so he shrugs then shakes his head, wiggling his fingers and scrunching up his nose to show it’s nothing he’s really interested in.

“How about pictures? Like... child pornography?”

His eyes snap to her, horrified. What? Is she crazy?

She keeps watching him, her eyes calm but serious. “Jensen,” she says quietly, “have _you_ ever forced yourself on someone? Child or adult.”

He stares at her, stunned. How can she...? ‘No!’ he tries to yell, and the word gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He waves his hands, shaking his head in anger. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“I’m sorry, I had to ask.” She looks back down at the pictures on the table. “These... They are very detailed. Disturbingly detailed. They depict things that most people wouldn’t even think of, when asked to describe their worst sexual nightmare. And the perpetrator in these...” She points at three different drawings before looking up at him. “He has a face. The same one in all three.”

Jensen swallows. He’d noticed but hadn’t really speculated on it, just figured he was making it up as he went along.

She gathers them into a pile but leaves the three she pointed at on the table. Then she takes blank pages and covers everything other than the faces of the man. It should make them easier to look at but for some reason it’s not.

“Do you recognize him?” she asks and he forces himself to look down at the drawings. Dark eyes stare up at him from a round face. Crooked nose. Full lips. Short, thinning hair. A beard. He shakes his head.

“Did you ever see a picture of the man who kidnapped you? During the investigation, in the papers... Anything like that?”

Jensen breathes out in relief. Of course. He must have at some point, right? That’s all this is. A stored picture in his head that he’d forgotten about. He smiles.

She doesn’t smile back. “The only picture the media had of your kidnapper was the one released by the police. It was taken ten years earlier, when he was arrested and later sentenced to prison. He was twenty-one at the time.”

She reaches into her folder and lays a picture on the table. A mug shot of a slim young man with shoulder length hair and glasses stares up at Jensen. He can tell it’s the same man by the look in his eyes and the shape of his lips, but that’s all. Other than that he looks completely different.

“I think that on a deep subconscious level, one that you’re only able to reach when you’re lost in your art, you do remember some things. This?” she says and holds her hand over the table, fingers spread. “I think this might be the little boy, trying to break through the barrier.”

Jensen shakes his head. That’s not possible. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember any of it.

She goes silent, watching him. “You were ten years old, and you walked away from three weeks of captivity with no memory of it,” she finally says. “Some would consider that a blessing.”

He shrugs. His mother kept telling him how lucky he was. How he should just forget everything and start anew. Put it all behind him. Whatever. Not like it made a difference. He was still fucked up enough from what he did remember.

“Well, it’s not their life, is it?” Sam says gently. “It’s yours. What it comes down to is what you want.” She leans forward, eyes watching him intently. “Jensen, do you _want_ to know what happened to you?”

He hesitates. Does he? He looks at the drawings on the table and swallows. They _are_ detailed. Very detailed. More than anything he’s ever done before. He hadn’t even realized how gruesome they were, until he’d heard Chris suck in his breath behind him that morning and whisper a broken, “Jesus fucking Christ. Jensen, what are you...? Oh God.”

He’d followed Chris’s gaze to the flood of drawings and paintings littering the floor, and suddenly he’d seen what Chris was seeing, had seen what his brain and hands had mindlessly made him do. It had scared the living shit out of him. He only barely kept from throwing up all over himself.

If his subconscious brain is already showing him this, how much worse can the truth be?

Jensen reaches for the sketchbook that had been lying on the table, waiting for him. He hesitates a moment then he writes, hand shaking with the effort, ‘KNO, Y. REMMBR, N.’

She nods, thoughtful. “Repressed memories are tricky. Usually we like people to just deal with what they actually can remember. If things are unclear, and the person wants to dig deeper there are ways to bring more memories forward, like, for example, through hypnosis. The problem in your case is that you’ve had twelve years to think about what might have happened to you, and whatever memories we might be able to bring to the surface they would most likely be tainted by your imagination. So even if you wanted to remember there’s no way we would know which memories are real and which are fake.”

She pauses, clearly looking for a reaction but he just stares back, waiting. He can feel the muscles in his back stiffen in anticipation, his calves and thighs getting taut and ready, his eyes fighting the steady gaze, wanting to dart to the door, to ensure he has a way to escape.

“But we can work with these,” she continues, indicating his work. “Talk about what is happening in them, how they make you feel. At the moment they’re the closest thing we have to real memories, and dealing with them would help a lot, I think.”

He stares at her in disbelief, his anger flaring when she drops her gaze. What the hell? She knows! He knows she knows, so why the hell doesn’t she just _tell_ him? He’s not gonna sit here and talk about drawings that might or might not be accurate, not when she already knows what happened. Closest thing? Fuck that!

He leans forward and taps the table. When she looks up he points at her folder and makes a ‘c’mon’ gesture.

“What?”

Jensen clenches his jaw and impatiently repeats the gesture. She looks down at the folder then back up again, frowning. Frustrated he picks up the sketchbook again and writes with crooked letters ‘I KNO YU NO. SO TEL M.’

Christ. His brain must be getting desperate if it thinks fucking up his spelling like that will keep him from finding out.

She blinks, clearly taken aback. “How–?”

He raises his eyebrow, and she cuts herself off, looking awkward and a little angry at herself for being so transparent.

“I contacted the hospital you were brought to,” she finally admits. “I asked for a copy of your file. It took a while, their computer system doesn’t go that far back.” She stops, looking flustered. “This is not a good idea. Your memories are being repressed for a reason, Jensen.”

He purses his lips, eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t care. Tell me!’

“There’s no way to know how you will react. It could trigger you to–”

He launches forward and snatches the folder out of her hands, eyes skimming the first page before she has a chance to stop him

“Jensen, wait. You can’t… Jensen, give that to me!”

But he can’t hear her. His head is swimming, the words jumping up at him, black, and sharp and screaming.

\---------

Jared’s nodding off ever so slightly, thinking of Thanksgiving, which was surprisingly nice, and wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do for Christmas, once that comes around. So it takes him a moment to realize that the guy walking away from the building he’s been watching, walking in the _opposite_ direction of where he’s parked, is Jensen. Shit.

Jared fumbles for the door, but Jensen is already disappearing around the corner, so he curses and starts the truck instead, driving over the sidewalk rather than wasting time with the exit. A car going the other way honks its horn, and he gives the driver a small apologetic wave, eyes on the spot where he saw Jensen last. He’s got one hell of a gait, because he’s already one block down, and judging by the way he’s walking he’s extremely upset. Even more upset than the quiet rage he’d been trying to hide when Jared dropped him off. Jared had chalked it up to him and Chris having an argument but maybe it was something else altogether. Something much more serious. And Jared hadn’t even asked, because for once he’d felt too tired to deal with Jensen’s mood swings. Shit.

Jared drives up, slowing down as he gets closer, so he won’t spook Jensen. He rolls down the window as they’re side by side, but Jensen won’t look at him. He’s got his head bowed, eyes set on the pavement, arms crossed around his waist.

“Jensen, hey! What’s wrong? Where you going? C’mon, man, don’t do this. Talk to me.”

Jensen ignores him. Actually, it’s like he can’t even hear him. Jared swings up on the sidewalk and is out of the car, before the engine’s stopped rumbling.

“Hey,” he says, running to catch up with Jensen who’s already ten feet away. “Jen, what is it? You’re scaring me. Jensen, please.”

He runs to get in front, blocking the way and without a warning Jensen punches him, right in the gut. Jared goes down like a sack of coal, the wind knocked out of him. Fuck.

“Jensen, wait,” he croaks. “Don’t...” He coughs, fighting to get his breath back. Jesus Christ, it hurts!

Jensen walks on, but suddenly he stops and turns around. The look on his face hits Jared harder than the fist did.

“Jen,” he whimpers and rolls over so he can get up on his knees.

His stomach hurts like a motherfucker, and he’s cold and wet from lying in the snow. He lifts his head as he struggles to get to his feet. Jensen is still staring at him. He’s pale and trembling, eyes wide and blank. He looks like he’s going into shock. Fuck. Jared slowly straightens up, his stomach still cramping, and his lungs aching.

“Jensen, it’s all right. It’s gonna be all right. Hey...”

Jensen shakes his head. His lips twist downwards, and he starts blinking rapidly as tears well up in his eyes.

“Did you remember something?” Jared asks carefully. “Jensen?”

Jensen shakes his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. His breath hitches.

Jared’s hearts sinks. “She told you.”

Jensen goes rigid. His eyes fling open, wide with shock. He sucks in his breath, the accusation clear in his face.

“Your mother told me,” Jared says quietly.

Jensen’s breath hitches, red spots blossoming in his otherwise pale face. Jared can practically hear what he’s thinking. ‘She _knew_? They all knew? Chris? _You all knew?_ ’

“Jensen, listen to me. It’s not like that. Listen! I told your mom we needed to know what to expect if you started... if you started to remember. I asked her if it was true, and she said...” Jared swallows, tears in his eyes. “She said yes. Fuck, Jensen, I’m so sorry. I was gonna tell you, I just... I promised her I’d be careful. That I wouldn’t just drop it on you. That’s why I hadn’t... I was scared, okay? I was just so fucking scared.”

Jensen shakes his head, his face a grimace of pain and anger. ‘My life,’ he mouths. ‘Not yours. Mine!’

“Yes, it’s your life!” Jared shouts back, something snapping in his head. “It’s your _life_ , Jensen. And it’s fucking precious, okay? You, your life, it means more to me than anything. And I was afraid if I told you I might trigger you to... God, Jensen, you were talking about killing yourself!” He’s crying now, big blubbering tears running down his face, but he doesn’t even care. “How was I supposed to tell you? I couldn’t just... I love you. I love you so much, and I was so, so scared. I...”

He doesn’t expect the arms pulling him in tight, and so the dam bursts wide open when it happens. He holds on, clinging to Jensen and crying his fear, and guilt and shame into Jensen’s neck, knowing it should be the other way around, that he should be the one comforting a traumatized Jensen. Instead it’s Jensen who is gently stroking Jared’s back, Jensen’s lips that are moving silently against Jared’s ear, mouthing words Jared can only guess.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he hiccups between sobs he just doesn’t seem able to stop. “I’m so sorry.”

Jensen’s breath hitches in Jared’s ear before he continues his silent consolation, arms cradling Jared’s head on his shoulder. They stand like that for what seems like hours. Jared is vaguely aware of someone telling him he needs to, “Move your car, son” and then a gentler, “Just don’t leave it for too long,” a moment later, before the man (cop?) leaves them to it. A bright voice asks, “Mom, why are they crying?” only to be hushed by the child’s clearly embarrassed mother. The sky grows darker, and Jared slowly realizes his shaking sobs have been replaced by a different kind of trembling as his wet jeans turn to ice around his legs. Finally Jensen pries him gently off and holds his face between cold hands, gazing at him with concern.

“I’m okay,” Jared manages, then he's crying again. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying anymore. If it’s for himself, for the fear of losing Jensen, for feeling so helpless or useless; or if it’s for Jensen, grieving for the child he should have been, the person he should have grown into. It’s just too much, all of it. He’s never felt so... _eighteen_ before. So young and stupid. So goddamn lost.

Jensen shakes his head then kisses him, cold lips pressing against his like he doesn’t even notice the smear of tears, and spit and probably snot all over them. Then Jensen pulls him back to the truck and pushes him into the passenger seat, belting him in and patting him reassuringly before getting in behind the wheel. The truck jerks to a start, gears protesting loudly, but Jensen just scowls and hits the wheel with his hand, shaking the stick and kicking the gas pedal, until finally the car starts rolling. Jared watches him, brain swimming. He absently wonders if Jensen actually has a driver’s license. From the look of it he’d say no. It seems like Jensen is simply imitating what he’s seen Chris do a thousand times and not really doing such a great job of it.

Wouldn’t that just be hilarious if they both died in a car crash, because Jared was too much of a crybaby to drive the damn truck? Just the thought has his breath hitching, and Jensen looks over at him in alarm, jerking the wheel and almost hitting a traffic sign. It’s all Jared can do not to start bawling again.

By the time they close in on Jensen’s apartment building, Jared feels like he’s not really there anymore. His head hurts, and his eyes burn, and he can’t think beyond wanting to crawl into bed with Jensen and never get up again. Jensen is staring straight ahead, his face having smoothed out into a blank mask that makes Jared want to start crying all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, for the twentieth time since they started driving. Jensen just shakes his head, his eyes flickering briefly to Jared before going back to the road. He finds their parking spot and by some miracle manages to get the truck into it without bumping into the cars next to it, the engine coughing and hiccupping before finally dying with the screech of the handbrake.

They get out, Jensen hurrying around to Jared’s side and supporting him in and up the stairs. The apartment is empty; Chris is still at work Jared presumes. He has no idea what time it is. He grabs hold of Jensen’s hand after he lowers him to the bed, afraid Jensen is going to leave him there. Jensen shakes his hand free and goes to tug Jared’s boots off. He wrestles him out of the wet jeans as well as the jacket and hoodie before covering him with the duvet.

“Jensen,” Jared chokes out as Jensen starts to turn away. Jensen gives him a brief smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Jared falls back on the pillow and closes his eyes for just a minute, just so he can gather his thoughts.

\-----------

The difference between suspecting and knowing is like the difference between sand and quicksand. One tickles your feet, gets into every crack and fold, gnashes between your teeth, irritating and intruding. The other pulls you down and suffocates you.

Jensen is suffocating.

He stands in the shower, warm water beating upon his chilled skin, until his knees suddenly buckle, and he’s gliding down the wall like a glob of spit, hitting the bottom hard. He starts shaking, head cradled in his arms, but he doesn’t cry. He feels frozen, numb, his thoughts skittering around like rabbits, jumping up out of nowhere and skipping out again, unfinished. His mother’s face flickers by, his sister’s, Chris’s. All gazing at him with hurt and pain and worry.

‘This is why they don’t hate me,’ he thinks. (`“…catatonic…”`) ‘Because they know.’ (`“…weak from malnutrition…”`) They know what happened. (`“…severely dehydrated…”`) That’s why they still care. (`“…bladder infection…”`) Because it’s not really about him, it’s about who he was. (`“…bruises from restraints around the wrists, ankles and throat…”`) They look at him,, and they don’t see a grown up. (`“…knees badly scraped…”`) They don’t see a jerk or an insensitive asshole. (`“…sand and gravel, most likely from the basement floor, deeply embedded in the wounds…”`) They don’t see a person that most people would rather ignore than deal with. (`“…lacerations on the inside of the mouth and throat…”`) They don’t even see a survivor. (`“…severe tissue damage…”`) They see a victim. (`“…evidence suggests frequent and extremely brutal…”`) A ten-year-old rape victim. (`“…needed extended surgery…”`) Because that’s what he’ll always be to them. (`“In my opinion any delay in treatment would have resulted in the patient’s death due to extreme blood loss.`)

He throws up on his lap then sits staring blindly at the mess until the water has washed most of it away, leaving chunks of undigested food trembling over the drain. His head hurts.

He gets up when the water goes cold, turning it off and stepping out of the shower on shaky legs. His clothes lie in a bundle on the floor, cold, wet and dirty. He leaves them there.

Jared is asleep. He’s snoring, his nose stuffed, cheeks flushed red. His hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead.

Jensen gets dressed. Underwear, jeans, socks, t-shirt. Jared’s hoodie that’s become too small for him, because, insanely enough, he’s still growing. Jensen reaches for his coat, pulls on his boots. His gloves, his beanie, his scarf.

He opens the door and walks out, down the stairs and into the streets. He turns left and keeps going.

\---------

“How long have you been feeling like crap?”

Jared swipes Chris’s hand away from his forehead. “What does it matter? We need to–” He doubles over, coughing until it feels like his lungs are on fire. When he looks up, tears stinging his eyes from exertion, Chris gives him a pointed look.

“For being a college boy you’re plenty stupid, aren’t you?” He sighs when Jared’s jaw tightens. “You have a raging fever, Jared. I’m no doctor, but even I can tell you’re sick as a dog. Plus you look like you haven’t eaten in weeks. What the hell have you been doing to yourself?”

“Nothing,” Jared mumbles, voice hoarse. His throat feels like he swallowed razorblades. “Been busy.”

“Christ.” Chris rubs a hand over his face, seeming exasperated. “I can’t do this, you know. I can’t be taking care of the both of you.”

“I can take care of myself–“

“Clearly you can’t,” Chris cuts him off, angry. “Jesus, Jared, this ain’t Texas! You can’t be running around dressed in long-sleeves and a denim jacket in fucking December! You ain’t even got fat for insulation, you skinny-assed hick. What’s the matter with you?”

Jared flinches. “This is all I’ve got, okay?” he mumbles. His head is killing him. “Don’t have any money for clothes. Or food. Been living on Ramen. When I’m not here, I mean.” His face feels hot and not just from the fever.

Chris stares at him. “Why didn’t you say something?” he finally asks. “We could have–”

“What?” Jared asks defeated. “What could you have done?”

“Asked you over for dinner more times, for one. Helped you find a job maybe.”

“Tried. Were all across town or fucked up hours I couldn’t fit in with school and, and...”

“Jensen?” Chris sighs when Jared doesn’t answer. “So you’d rather starve? I’ve been taking care of him for years. I think we can get by without you for a few hours.”

“Yeah?” Jared shoots back. “So where is he?”

Chris’s face shuts down. “He’ll be back.”

“How can you know that? You didn’t see him! He was... God, what if he does it? What if... Chris, what if he kills himself? It would be my fault. I fell asleep when I should have–”

“Jared, shut up. He’s not gonna fucking kill himself!” Chris snaps. “I’ve got people looking. If we haven’t heard from him tonight I’ll call the cops. Nothing they can do anyway until it’s been 48 hours.” Chris sighs when Jared just keeps glaring at him. “It won’t come to that. He’ll come back because one, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go and two, you’re here.”

Jared swallows. “I’m not sure that’s enough this time.”

“It damn well better be,” Chris growls and gets up. “Eat your soup. And sleep. If Jensen is anywhere near as bad as you say then I need you up and alert when he comes back.”

“ _If_ he comes back,” Jared murmurs but Chris pretends not to hear him.

 

 

It’s starting to get dark when Jared finally gets a text message that says, “ _Nt ded_ ” like Jensen knows that’s what they’re thinking. Nothing about where he is or when he’s planning on returning. Jared tries calling him – for the fiftieth time – but Jensen doesn’t answer any more than before so Jared sends yet another text saying, “Please come home. I love you.” There’s no answer.

Jared sleeps in Jensen’s bed, keeping Chris up half the night with his coughing and sniveling. Chris makes him tea in the morning and heats up the rest of the soup.

“No getting out of bed,” he warns before going to work. “And call me if you hear anything.”

“You too,” Jared wheezes. His voice is shot to shit.

Their phones stay silent.

 

 

“Maybe we should call his parents,” Jared suggests between coughing fits that night, “ask if he’s been in touch?”

Chris looks at him like he’s insane. “You want to call the parents of a kidnap victim and tell them he’s gone missing again?”

Jared goes red. He hadn’t thought of it like that. “No. Sorry. What about that damn shrink?”

“Already did that,” Chris mutters. “She told me not to worry, that he’s stronger than I think. The hell? She just met him, what does she know? Fucking doctors. Tell you what, next time I meet Michael soon-to-be-Doctor Rosenbaum I’m punching his motherfucking face in.” He squirms when Jared looks at him. “Well, I can’t punch _her_. She’s a woman!”

“I must be sicker than I thought because your logic makes sense.” Jared lies back on the couch, groaning when the movement changes the pressure in his head. His fever seems to be down a bit, but his head still feels like it’s split open, and he thinks he might have cracked a rib when coughing earlier. It makes breathing hurt even more.

He falls asleep and dreams of someone crying. When he wakes up Chris is sleeping next to him on the couch, face a little too shiny. Jared coughs around the lump in his throat and closes his eyes again.

 

The next time he opens them it’s morning, and Jensen is sitting on the coffee table, watching him.

“Jen,” Jared murmurs sadly, reaching out. He had this same dream yesterday. His fingers meet Jensen’s solid knee, and Jared bolts upright, heart caught in his throat, almost knocking Jensen over in his eager to wrap his arms around him. Just for a second before he catches himself, but it’s still long enough to feel Jensen go rigid, and his breathing speed up, shallow and panicked. Jared quickly pulls back, hands seeking out Jensen’s face instead, touching him with trembling fingers.

“You came back,” he breathes hoarsely, searching Jensen eyes for an explanation, an answer, an apology. There’s nothing there. Just the same silence, the same wary look of the last few weeks. Like he hasn’t been gone for almost three days. The anger flares up, as unexpected as Jensen suddenly _being there_ , and Jared opens his mouth to shout it out but instead ends up coughing and fighting for air, his ribs stinging his side like a knife, the tears in his eyes using the excuse to flow over.

Jensen’s eyes widen in alarm. He’s instantly at Jared’s side, butt landing half on top of Chris’s curled-up legs as Jensen slips his arm around Jared’s shoulders.

Chris stirs, mumbling, “Jared?” before he opens his eyes and sees Jensen, and just like that all hell breaks loose.

It’s like a fifties sitcom with Chris yelling out accusations while Jensen waves his hands, too upset to make any sense, and Jared coughing and gasping for breath, until the pain becomes too much, and he only just manages to push Jensen away and run for the bathroom. That puts a stop to the fight, for now.

Chris hovers in the doorway as Jensen rubs Jared’s back and holds back his hair as he vomits Chris’s soup and tea and the orange juice he only drank for the vitamin C. It hurts so damn much his eyes start rolling back in his head, that’s how close he is to passing out.

“Call 911,” Jensen growls, voice almost as hoarse as Jared’s own. “Chris! Do it!”

“It’s just a cold,” Jared tries to protest but ends up coughing again. He’s having trouble breathing, and his head is spinning. He thinks he might be passing out after all. Just to be safe he grabs Jensen’s hand and holds on, figuring if he doesn’t let go then Jensen can’t go, can’t disappear again. “Stay,” he manages to slip out, before he’s coughing again, and, that’s it, he’s gone.

\---------

“You selfish sonofabitch.”

Jensen ignores him. His eyes are on Jared. Jared who looks impossibly pale against the white bedding, the last trace of summer tan gone sickly grey. Pneumonia they say. Viral infection. Two cracked ribs from coughing. Dehydration and malnutrition. Jensen had almost laughed at that. How fucking ironic.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were? We almost called your fucking parents!”

Jensen takes Jared’s hand, stroking his fingers lightly over the wrist. He can feel Jared’s pulse, fluttering under the thin skin. The palm is dry, the fingernails bitten down to the core, skin pink and ragged where Jared has gnawed as well.

“Jensen!”

Jensen sighs. He looks up, fixing his eyes on Chris.

“Where were you?”

Jensen shrugs. Walking. Sitting in cafés, drinking gallons of coffee. Lying in a hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. Does it matter?

“Jared thought you’d run off to kill yourself. Said it would be on him if you did. His fault.”

That makes him wince. He looks back at Jared, at the dark circles under his eyes. Reaches over and pushes back a lock of Jared’s hair. ‘Sorry,’ he thinks. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just needed some space.’

“Jesus, Jensen, you can’t just...”

He looks up again just in time to catch Chris wipe at his eyes.

“It’s not just about you anymore, do you get that?” he continues after an awkward moment of silent staring. “I know you don’t care how I feel, but, fuck, look at that boy! He’s been worrying himself sick over you – literally! And I don’t mean just the last couple of days. Shit, man, you sleep together. How did you not notice he’s gone thin as a fucking stick?”

Jensen looks away, cheeks burning. He hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t noticed anything. Too wrapped up in his own problems to see anything else. A selfish fucking bastard, that’s what he is.

“It’s not just that. He has no decent clothes, Jensen. No money, no family, no nothing. All he has is you, and you ran away.”

Jensen’s breath hitches. His fingers have gone rigid where they clutch Jared’s hand, hard enough to leave white fingerprint on the grayish skin. He wants to run out, to breathe in fresh air without Chris there to needle him, to push and prod and lean on him when he can hardly stand to be in his own skin. But that means leaving Jared, and he’s not doing that. Not now. Not again.

“Jensen.” Chris voice has gone quiet, soft. Tired. “You knew. You’ve always known. I don’t get why you’re so... You _knew_.”

Jensen closes his eyes. He shakes his head slowly, lips twisting. Yes, he knew. He knew the same way you know your parents have sex, that one day you’ll die, that all the evil in the world can be reflected in the eyes of a scared child. Facts and truths that mean nothing in theory and _everything_ in praxis. He knew but now he _knows_.

“If nothing had happened, there would have been no reason for you to block it out,” Chris continues. “You’ve always known that. So why...?”

Jensen lets go of Jared’s hand and fumbles into his pocket, pulling out the sheets of paper that have been weighing him down like a stone. They’ve been folded, and crumpled and thrown away and retrieved so many times the letters have worn away in some of the creases, and there are stains of coffee and grease smudging the rest. He holds them out, waiting until Chris takes them hesitantly from his hand before he resumes his hold on Jared’s fingers, the soft flesh of his palm, the fragile strings of his backhand bones. How did he ever think that hand was gigantic? It seems so small now.

He can hear Chris unfolding the paper, ironing out the creases with the palm of his hand. The silence that falls as he reads. Then...

“Oh Jesus.” A hitch of breath, a soft noise in the back of Chris’s throat, and then he’s out the door, the battered pages fluttering to the floor.

Jensen closes his eyes. He rubs his fingers over Jared’s limp hand. Then he lays his head down on the bed and sleeps.

 


	12. Chapter 12

_ February 2010 _

__

 

_“Jensen, we need to talk about your work.”_

_Jensen goes still. The paint is slick on his fingers._

_“Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. It’s just... Well, it’s very dark. And frankly a bit disturbing. And I get it. Christ, I do. But... It’s not really something we can put up at the final art exhibition. And you need to have at least one piece for the exhibition if you want to graduate.”_

_Jensen looks away. He never went into this with the intent to show off. He just needed an outlet for all his thoughts, all the words he can’t say._

_“Just try something a little less psycho and a little more cheerful, okay? Find a good emotion and hold on to it. Express it. Show it to me.”_

_Jensen looks up at the canvas in front of him. Then he dips his fingers into a tin of yellow paint and makes a bright streak across the painting before looking over, eyebrows raised._

_“That’s... yellow. Right. Oh well, it’s a start I guess. We’ll work on it, kiddo.”_

_Jensen shrugs and turns back to stare at the whirlwind of red and black. The yellow hardly even registers._

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/251787/251787_original.jpg)

 

\------------

Present day

It’s three days before they allow Jared to go home. Home being Jensen’s and Chris’s apartment, because there’s no way he’s staying in that shithole they call a dorm room, Jensen tells him that in no uncertain terms without having to utter a single word. He’s led straight to bed, and there he stays for the next five days, missing the last of his classes and worrying that he might fail his exams and consequently lose his scholarship. What the fuck is he supposed to do then?

Chad brings him his books, eyes darting around the apartment like he’s looking for a sign that says ‘Home of the Crazycakes’. He looks guilty, fidgeting and blabbering about nothing and everything where he hovers by the bed, flinching every time Jared coughs. When Jared’s about ready to tell him to please leave so he can get some sleep, Chad blurts out that he’d been smoking in their room when Jared wasn’t around, but he never meant to give Jared lung cancer, “Honest to God, I swear, you have to believe me!”

It takes Jared some prodding to find out that Jensen had apparently stormed over, absolutely seething with rage, and thrown all of Chad’s cigarettes out the window before sending him a death glare that convinced Chad that whatever was wrong with Jared was definitely his fault. For a moment Jared is tempted to let Chad believe it’s true, because, goddammit, he’s been telling Chad a hundred times and a half to keep his filthy habit out of their room, but in the end he doesn’t have the heart. Chad leaves, slumped with relief and mumbling about Jensen being a ‘fucking psycho’.

Chris is quiet. As angry as he’d been when Jensen came back, now it’s like all the air has gone out of him. He keeps giving Jensen these looks that Jared doesn’t know how to interpret. Like grief, and guilt and helplessness, all mixed up in the darkness of his eyes. He must know Jared is looking for answers, because he’s clearly avoiding him, murmuring “Take it easy, kid” and “You feeling okay?” in this detached voice as he walks by, not really stopping to hear Jared’s answer.

“What are you not telling me?” Jared asks Jensen, but he just frowns and shakes his head, like that would never happen. ‘Secrets? Me? Whatever gave you that idea?’ Jared tries to ask Chris, but all he gets is a growled, “Nothing,” and Jensen watching them both, eyes blank.

After three days Jensen goes back to work, reluctantly leaving Jared to spend the day on the couch, drinking tea and breathing carefully so he doesn’t snap his ribs completely with his coughing. When Jensen comes back home they curl up in bed with Jared’s arm held loosely around Jensen’s waist. They kiss (once Jared can breathe through his nose again), they cuddle, they sleep. They don’t fuck, and Jensen doesn’t talk.

Sometimes Jared thinks he imagined Jensen talking the day he came back, telling Chris to call 911. He doesn’t even try anymore it seems, just points, and gestures and tells with the slightest raise of his eyebrow, the smallest twitch of his lips.

He still draws but it’s different. He draws the kids in his art class, the people sipping coffee at The Black Bean, the cat that sometimes saunters into the coffee house like it’s its home. He draws Jared. There are no dark rooms and no scared little boys. No shadows lurking in corners or monsters reaching out. It should be a relief but there’s nothing happy or carefree about the drawings he does. They’re flat and lifeless, frozen moments of a life he’s watching but not participating in. Even the sketches of Jared’s own face feel unfamiliar, like it’s someone else with his facial structure but none of his character. It’s unsettling.

“What are you thinking?” Jared asks, because, without the drawings, without the occasional word, without Jensen’s quirky temper and theatrical expressions there are no lines to read between anymore.

Jensen shrugs and gives him a half smile, like it’s not important. He settles down on the couch by Jared’s side, pretending to be interested in whatever stupid show is on TV.

“I love you,” Jared tells him quietly.

Jensen doesn’t answer, his gaze already gone vacant, and his mind obviously miles away. Jared sighs, carefully rubbing his chest before dropping his hand on Jensen’s thigh.

Jensen is up and across the room in a flash, eyes wild and hands raised in fists. They stare at each other, Jared shocked, and Jensen blinking rapidly as if he’s trying to reconnect with the real world.

“It’s just me,” Jared says slowly.

Jensen breathes out, body relaxing. He gives Jared a small awkward smile before coming back to perch precariously on the edge of the couch.

“Where were you?” Jared swallows when Jensen just averts his eyes. “I know you have a lot to deal with but please don’t shut me out. Please.”

Jensen doesn’t answer but after a while he moves closer, allowing Jared to put his arm around his shoulders, and relaxes against his side. He lays a hand on Jared’s chest, right over his heart, and presses down gently with his fingers then looks up with eyes that seem so tired.

“I love you, too,” Jared whispers and kisses him.

They kiss until Jensen’s heartbeat has slowed down, and then they deliberately speed it up again. Jensen is half on top of Jared, careful of his still healing ribs, his hands running under Jared’s shirt, warm on his skin; Jared’s hands are slipping under Jensen’s jeans to cup his ass, alert to any change in his breathing that might indicate he’s going too far, when suddenly there’s the rattle of keys and the door opens. There’s an awkward silent moment before they both turn their heads to see Chris and Sophia standing in the doorway, looking embarrassed and a little amused.

“See what I have to live with?” Chris says exasperated as he closes the door behind them, but he looks too happy to be annoyed. Sophia just smiles and raises her eyebrow.

“Hey,” Jared says and discreetly wipes traces of spit off his face. “Didn’t expect you home so soon.”

“Obviously,” Chris says with a smirk.

Jensen huffs and pushes himself up and off the couch. He looks more angry than embarrassed, giving Chris a glare that would have made anyone else turn and run. Sophia’s smile fades and she gives Chris an unsure look.

“I need to get going anyway,” she says awkwardly. “It’s late.”

Chris looks at her, startled, then back at Jensen, and his face goes hard. “No, it’s not. Jensen, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Sophia tries to protest but Chris is already heading for the bathroom, shooting Jensen a look that offers no argument, and, after dramatically rolling his eyes, Jensen follows, jaw set in a tight line. The door closes behind them, and Jared and Sophia share an equally embarrassed look.

“So, did you have a good date?” Jared asks as he sits up and awkwardly straightens his clothes.

Sophia gives him a small smile. “Yeah. It was nice.”

They both jump as either Chris or Jensen hits the bathroom door with his fist, rattling it on its hinges. “Maybe we should go for a walk?” Jared suggests, and Sophia nods, clearly relieved.

“Oh, you good to go out yet?” she asks as Jared is pulling on the coat Jensen bought him as a supposedly early Christmas present. It’s nothing fancy but it’s warm and fits him and what more can he ask for. “How are you anyway?”

“I’m...” He pauses as Chris yells something that sounds like, “Goddamn drama queen!” Jared gives Sophia a small grin. “I’m better. A lot better. And I’ll be fine for a short walk, don’t worry. The fresh air will do me good.”

He puts on Jensen’s scarf and beanie, and the gloves Chris threw at him the day before, claiming he’d accidentally bought them two sizes too big. Yeah, right. He’ll have to have a word with them about that whole thing. He’s not a charity case, thank you very much.

He leaves a note on the coffee table saying, _‘Gone for a walk. Don’t kill each other.’_

The night is cold but still, and Jared feels pleasantly warm in the thick coat. Sophia links her arm with his and they walk down the street in silence until they’re far enough away that they can’t hear Chris yelling anymore.

“Sorry about that,” Jared says. “It’s nothing personal. He’s just..." His voice trails off. What? Jensen is what? He’s not sure he knows anymore.

“It’s okay,” Sophia says. “It’s not like I don’t know what he’s like.” She gives Jared a small smile. “He doesn’t drive you crazy?”

“Jensen? God, yes. Completely insane.” He laughs softly. “Guess I’m a sucker for punishment.”

“Are you?” Sophia gives him an inquisitive glance. “How do you two work, really? I mean, you seem like a sweet guy, and he’s...” She stops, awkward.

“A jerk?” Jared supplies lightly, trying not to feel hurt on Jensen’s behalf when she nods. “He’s not. Not really. A jerk is mean on purpose. He’s... not. He just acts the way he feels.”

She just looks at him, clearly not getting it.

“It’s like, everyone has bad days, right? Days when you feel tired and irritated, and you just want everyone to leave you alone. So maybe you say stuff you know you shouldn’t or shut people out, because you just can’t deal with them, don’t matter if they’re trying to be nice. Sound familiar?” She nods. “Well, I think that’s how Jensen feels every day. Like his life is just one awful bad day, repeating itself ad infinitum. There’s no waking up the next morning with things back to normal. _This_ is his normal.”

She looks away, blinking. “I never thought of it like that. He told you this?”

Jared shakes his head. “No. But I’ve had enough days like that myself to recognize the symptoms.” He shrugs when Sophia looks at him in alarm. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is I know his worst days are better now with me in them than his best days were before, without me. And yes,” he adds with a smile, “that he did tell me.”

Not with words. Jensen doesn’t do well with words when it comes to emotionally important things, something that Jared knows bothers him a lot. But it’s where he’s best at expressing himself non-verbally. He knows Jensen worries that his feelings for Jared might get lost in translation, but the truth is it’s the only subject Jared is 100% sure he’s reading right. Everything else is open to interpretation.

“To be honest,” he says when she remains quiet, “even though I’m sorry he made you feel uncomfortable, I’m glad it happened. It’s the most emotional I’ve seen him since... Well, since he came back. I was starting to worry he’d checked out indefinitely.”

“He looked animated enough making out with you on the couch,” Sophia says with a small smile.

Jared laughs. “Well, yeah. That was also the most we’ve done since he came back. I guess that’s why he got pissed off. It’s hard enough getting back on the horse without being interrupted midway.”

She nods, her cheeks flushing slightly pink. “I can understand that. And I am sorry, I know you weren’t expecting us until later. The movie was sold out, and we just thought we’d have an easy night in. We should have called.”

Jared shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Chris’s apartment as much as it’s Jensen’s. They just need to work out a system. The old sock-around-the-doorknob or something like that.”

She laughs.

When they get back Chris is on the couch, watching TV, and Jensen is lying on his bed, reading. The air is a little tense but not violently so anymore, and when Jared settles in beside Jensen on the bed, Jensen gives him a tired smile and a kiss before continuing with his book. Wherever they were headed before they were interrupted, the moment has obviously passed. Jared isn’t worried. Just having a moment was more than he’d expected, and he’s confident they’ll have another when the time is right. He shuffles over, until he’s lying on his side, head on Jensen’s lap, and closes his eyes. He falls asleep to Jensen’s fingers carding lazily through his hair, and Chris and Sophia laughing quietly over whatever is on TV. All in all it’s a good day.

\-----------

“It’s been a while.”

Jensen shrugs and fiddles with a rip in his jeans, tugging at the frays of cotton.

“To be honest I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

He looks up, surprised. There’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice. It’s so subtle that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so well trained in listening. From the calm look in her eyes he can tell she has no idea she’s given anything away.

“Chris called me when you went missing. He clearly blames me. I thought maybe you shared that sentiment,” she explains.

It sounds sincere enough, but he doesn’t think _his_ feelings are what worries her. If he were to guess he’d say _she’s_ the one sharing Chris opinion, thinking that what happened was her fault.

He shakes his head, and she relaxes a little. Again, it’s hardly visible but he’s also an expert on suppressed body language.

“Do you wish you hadn’t found out? Would you have preferred waiting for your memories to come back?”

He shakes his head again. He’s been waiting twelve years already, and what good has it done him? Even if he didn’t really want to know, he thinks he needed to. He just wishes he knew what he’s supposed to do with that knowledge.

“Has it made you remember anything?”

He shakes his head once again. No. Nothing. Everything is just as blank as before. It has on the other hand made his imagination go into overdrive, creating scenarios in his head that are no longer just _possible_ , but actually probable. He could have done without that to tell the truth.

It’s still different than memories or – he shudders at the thought – flashbacks. It’s like watching the old family movies back home. The ones with his parents happy and smiling and saying, “Jensen, look over here. Hey, sweetie,” and suddenly there’s this kid filling up the screen, making goofy faces and laughing. This happy, carefree kid he knows is him but he has no recollection of ever being. It’s like that, except in all the horrible ways it’s not.

“What difference does it make? Knowing, I mean.”

He hesitates, pencil tapping against the sketchbook resting against his knees. He doesn’t know how to explain it. In some ways it’s worse because there’s no tiny sliver of hope to cling to anymore. Not even a microscopic chance that despite all the evidence to the contrary maybe, just maybe, it didn’t happen. And there are all these facts now, adding flesh to thoughts that were merely bones before. That is definitely worse.

On the other hand it means there’s a valid reason for him being the way he is. It’s not because he’s weak or stubborn, or that he just doesn’t want to get better. Only so much can be cut from a person before there’s not enough left to build on. He feels like that. Like a piece of wood splintered into a thousand pieces, too tiny for them to ever be glued back together again.

He looks down at the blank page in front of him, and it stares back, glaringly white. The pencil trembles in his hand, and he tightens his grip, feeling the slim wood dig into the pads of his fingers. Until now he’s always been able to draw what he wants to tell her, but this time there’s nothing. Come to think of it, he hasn’t really been drawing anything worth expressing since... Well, since then.

Jensen blinks rapidly. He hadn’t realized. Fuck. Is it gone? What the hell is he supposed to do then? He looks up at her, helpless, and she gazes back, a small frown forming between her eyes.

“Jensen?”

He shakes his head and looks back down on the sketchbook, struggling to write CANT, his hand trembling as he lifts the book up to show her.

“You can’t? You can’t explain it? You can’t tell me? You can’t draw?” She looks slightly taken aback. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes in frustration. How’s he supposed to explain it when he can’t draw it? He takes the book back and writes NOTHN, showing it to her before tapping his head.

“You can’t picture it in your head anymore?”

Jensen raises his eyebrows. Yes, that’s what he’s saying.

“What if I tell you to draw something? Can you do that? The flowers, can you draw those?”

He quickly sketches the potted plant on the desk. That’s easy. It’s right in front of him and there’s no hidden meaning behind it. Great. Maybe he can become a still life artist. Whoopee.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “So you can draw things. You just have trouble interpreting your thoughts, is that it?”

He nods.

She writes something down in her notebook before looking up again with solemn eyes. “Jensen, people often have problems expressing themselves after the kind of emotional turmoil you just went through. But I can understand you being worried, considering your situation. It’s like losing your voice again.”

He bites his lip, breathing heavily through his nose. Not really helping here, lady.

“Okay, try focusing on one specific feeling. Like, Jared. How do you feel when you’re with him now?”

Jensen closes his eyes. He thinks of Jared, so pale and sick in the hospital bed. The cautious way he moves because his ribs still hurt. His worried eyes following Jensen around the room. The warmth of his skin as they lie close at night.

He opens his eyes again and stares down at the blank page. He shakes his head. There’s no way he can explain it. He feels guilty, useless, helpless, scared, angry, annoyed, desperate, tired, disgusted. Numb.

“Okay, let’s try something else,” she says after a while. “Are you angry?”

He nods without thinking.

“With me?”

He shakes his head. He’s the one who took matters into his own hands, against her judgment.

“The man who kidnapped you?”

He shakes his head again. What he feels for the man who did this to him is so far beyond rage.

“Jared?”

He hesitates then shakes his head. No, not really. Even if he was at first, when he found out Jared had kept the truth from him, he’s forgiven him now. Nothing like fearing for your boyfriend’s life to make you realize things like that don’t really matter.

“Chris?”

He shakes his head again. Jared explained to him that Chris hadn’t known, not until Jared told him.

“Your parents?”

He nods, jaw tightening.

She looks intrigued. “Your parents? Okay. Why?”

Jensen hesitates. Because they didn’t tell him. But that’s not the whole reason. He’s been angry with them for years. Because he blames them. He blames them for not keeping him safe. For letting that sick fuck take him. For not rescuing him sooner. He blames them for not understanding why he is the way he is, for making him feel like a failure, because he can’t seem to ‘get over it’. He blames them for every time they act like all they want is for him to talk, like he isn’t a real person, because he can’t communicate with them in a way they can understand. He blames them for every time they smile at his siblings, laugh with them, talk to them. Look happy. Because they don’t with him. When they look at him, all they see is pain, and guilt and failure, and you don’t smile at that. You don’t laugh when your kid can’t laugh back. You don’t talk when all he does is cough until he’s choking. You don’t love a kid who can’t love you back. Right? Do you?

He jerks out of his thoughts when the box of tissues is pushed across the table, and looks up to find Sam watching him with deep sympathy. He blinks, suddenly aware of the skin on his cheeks tickling, of his eyes burning hot, and his throat hurting the way it hasn’t in a long time. He pulls a tissue out of the box with trembling fingers and wipes at his face. It’s not the first time he’s cried in front of her, but it’s the first time he’s cried since he found out.

“You blame them?” she asks quietly. He nods, hitching his breath. “For what happened to you or for what came after?” He does a circling movement with his hand. “All of it?” He nods. He knows it’s irrational, but it doesn’t change that that’s how he feels.

She sits watching him for a long time, silent. He breathes slowly. His head hurts.

“Have you ever told them how you feel?” she finally asks.

He shakes his head, grimacing. What’s the point? His mom would just cry, and his dad would glare at him for hurting her precious feelings.

“Do you think they love you?”

He bites his lip then gives a reluctant nod. He knows they do. That doesn’t really change anything. You can still love a dog even when it goes rabid, and you have to put it down. He thinks if he’d been a dog they probably would have. All things considered it would have been kinder.

“Do you think any of the things you feel angry about, they did on purpose? Out of malice?”

He looks away before reluctantly shaking his head.

“So why can’t you forgive them?”

Because... Because they haven’t changed. Doesn’t matter that he’s proved that he doesn’t need them. That he can hold a job. That he can love someone, and that that person can love him back. That there’s more to him than being mute. They look at him, and all they see is a broken ten-year-old that they have to shelter and protect, even if it means him not having a life of his own. Who cares if he’s miserable, and lonely and claustrophobic as long as he’s _safe_?

He looks down at the blank page in front of him and slowly starts drawing. Himself, small and bruised and bleeding, locked within the cage of his parents’ embrace. His mother crying, his father looking at him sternly. There’s a bubble above his dad’s head, filled with lurking monsters.

He hands the drawing over, his hand trembling a little. She studies it for a moment, nodding slowly as if to herself, before laying it down on the table between them.

“You think that’s how they see you? Helpless? Broken?” He nods. “So how can we show them you’re not?”

He rolls his eyes. Good luck with that, lady.

She smiles a little. “Jensen, you have a lot of issues, but you’re not a child. I mean, obviously you will always be _their_ child, but that’s how all parents feel about their children. That need to protect, to make sure nothing bad happens to them. Or in your case, that nothing bad happens to them again. That never goes away. But there’s a difference between being your parents’ son, and being their little baby.”

He snorts. He points at the picture of his parents then himself before making a blah-blah motion with his hand.

“They think you can’t look after yourself, because you don’t talk?” He nods. “Okay, so prove them wrong.” She smiles when he just frowns at her. “Jensen, you don’t need words to be an adult. That’s not what makes you a man. What you need is to be able to live with the person you are and work with what you actually _can_ do. Play to your strengths instead of focusing on your weaknesses.”

She leans forward, studying him. “What are your strengths, Jensen? What do you like about your life?”

He frowns. Thinks. Shrugs.

She smiles, shaking her head a little, like his blindness amuses her. “Consider that your home assignment,” she says as she puts her notebook aside. “Bring me back some good stuff, all right?”

He gives her a tight smile back. Easy for her to say. Just because he managed to do one lousy drawing to express one specific thought doesn’t mean he’ll be able to express any other. Plus, finding things he likes about his life? Besides Jared, what is there?

\------------

“I thought the whole point of therapy was to make him feel better, not worse,” Jared says, thumbing the corner of his book. He’s finally out of bed, out of the house. Sitting at The Black Bean and nursing the best macchiato human hands can make.

Chad gives him a blank look. “Obviously you’ve never seen _The Cuckoo’s Nest_.”

Jared glares at him. “He’s not crazy, okay? He’s just... troubled.”

“That’s one word for it,” Chad snorts. He sighs when Jared doesn’t even smile. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can tell the difference. He’s still grumpy, still mute, he still jumps five feet in the air every time someone drops a fucking needle. How’s that worse?”

“Forget it.”

Jared looks over where Jensen is standing by the counter, staring into space. He looks miles away, the only sign he’s even alive is in the fingertips of his right hand tapping the pad of his thumb in an endless game of back and forth, index finger to pinky and then back again. Jared thinks it might be a tic, he’s read about those on the PTSD carers forum. Using repetitive movement to cope with emotional turmoil. Sometimes he touches his throat, hand resting on the top of his sternum, index finger slowly stroking up and down his Adam’s apple as if he’s stroking a small kitten. Then, like now, his eyes go blank, and his breathing slows down until it’s barely audible. It’s like he’s in a trance, like he’s just shut down and disappeared from the world he lives in. A vacation from himself. It’s a little disconcerting to tell the truth.

“I just wish I knew what he was thinking,” Jared says quietly. “I just wish he’d talk to me. _Don’t_ ,” he adds sharply as Chad opens his mouth. “You know what I mean.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Chad protests lamely. “Look, maybe he just doesn’t want you to know what’s going on inside that crazy head of his.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You told me he found out it was all true. So maybe that’s all he can think about, all the time. You really want him to share that with you?” Chad grimaces.

Jared frowns. “The only difference is now he knows it really happened. He still doesn’t remember anything, so what the hell is there to share?”

Chad looks at him. “Is that what she told him? ‘It really happened?’ Or did she tell him what really happened?”

“What’s the diff–?” Jared stops. He feels suddenly sick. “No way. Why would she do that? Why the _hell_ would she _do_ that?”

Chad shrugs. “I’m just saying. He might be crazy, but he doesn’t strike me as stupid. He’d probably already figured out most of it, so whatever is freaking him out right now has to be something he _didn’t_ know. And considering what we’re talking about here, I’d say it has to be something pretty fucking disgusting.” He makes a face. “Like fisting or gangbanging or–”

“Shut up!” Jared snarls, nostrils flaring. “Shut your fucking mouth, you fucking asshole, or I’ll shut it for you!”

Chad blinks. “Hey, chill. I was just–”

“No.” Jared’s so angry he’s shaking. “You don’t ‘just’ say shit like that. You’re talking about Jensen. You’re...” He grits his teeth, hands balled into fists. “Imagine me saying those things about Danneel and then tell me to fucking chill.”

Chad’s face goes deep red. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just meant... Shit, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Jared continues, too angry to stop himself. “You keep calling him crazy, like it’s all some goddamn joke. It’s not a fucking joke, Chad. It’s as far from a joke as you can get.”

“I was just...”

“We’re talking about a child being raped. It’s the most disgusting and vile crime anyone can commit. It’s not numbers; it’s not something that can happen to someone, _hypothetically_. It’s fucking real! Take a look around this place. See that little girl over there? She’s about ten, the same age Jensen was. Now imagine her dad, the guy sitting next to her, holding her down and–”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Chad swallows. He’s pale, almost green. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t... Can we please stop talking about this?”

Jared leans forward, eyes hard and unyielding. “See, that’s just it. _You_ can stop talking about it. _You_ can switch it off. Jensen can’t. That is his life. And he deserves a hell of a lot more respect than you’ve ever given him, just for still being alive.” Jared slams his book shut and stands up. “Think about that the next time you want to call him crazy. Because the truth is if that had been me? I would have lost my mind a long fucking time ago.”

He leaves Chad at the table, red-faced and stammering apologies, and walks over to the counter, at the last moment managing to plaster on a smile.

“Oh man, I could really use a break,” he says lightly, and Jensen’s eyes snap back into focus. He blinks, looking a little disoriented, but then he smiles and nods, gesturing at the coffee machine.

“Dude, you know it,” Jared leers, swallowing the lump in his throat, when Jensen chuckles and starts making their coffee.

Sophia throws them a smile and tells Jensen, “Fifteen minutes, tops!”

Jensen just flips her the finger but then seem to think the better of it and gives her a saccharine sweet smile instead, batting his eyes.

“Jeez. Twenty then. But no more! Jensen, no. No! Thirty and not a second later, or I’ll cut down your coffee allowance.”

Jensen grins and leans over, kissing Sophia on the cheek. She stares up at him, looking absolutely shocked. Jensen’s smile slips away, and he backs off, awkward. He grabs his coat, keeping his eyes downcast as he puts it on, and gestures at Jared to take their coffee cups. His face is flushed, and as he turns away Jared sees him lift his hand to hesitantly touch his lips.

Sophia is still staring as they leave the shop. Jared is willing to bet that is one kiss she’ll never forget.

He looks over at Jensen, wondering what’s going on in his head. If maybe Chad is right; maybe Dr. Ferris did tell Jensen everything. In detail. The mere idea makes Jared feel sick. No, it can’t be. How would she have found out anyway? It’s just having that last hope taken away from him that has thrown Jensen a little. It must be.

He puts his arm around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him in. Jensen stiffens only for a second, before he relaxes, and his hand sneaks around Jared’s waist and into the pocket of his coat. He tilts up his head, a hazy smile on his lips, and Jared kisses him. Jensen tastes of black coffee and peppermint, and it’s all Jared can do not to cry.

\---------

“You gonna be home tonight?”

Jensen hums, shrugging slightly where he sits by the kitchen island. He thinks Jared might be coming over after the library closes, but they hadn’t really decided on anything. Jared is stressing about the exams coming up in a couple of days and spends most of his time, day or night, studying. It’s wearing him down. If he doesn’t take a breather soon, Jensen is gonna tie him to the bed and force him to sleep for at least eight hours.

“I invited Sophia over,” Chris says. He sounds defensive, like he’s expecting a fight.

Jensen sighs and turns on the stool, meeting Chris’s stubborn stare with a raise of his eyebrow.

“I’m not saying you have to leave, just... Dammit, Jensen, you know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah, yeah. No being rude to his little girlfriend. No making out with Jared on the couch. Or the bed. No leaving naughty drawings lying about. No... what was it again? ‘Shitty attitude.’ Right. He waves his hand at Chris, mockingly agreeing to not do whatever Chris is worrying about. He’s not a damn psychopath, okay. He can actually be nice. Sometimes.

Chris breathes out. “Alright then. I’m cooking dinner, and then Sophia and me are watching a movie. So don’t even think about taking the couch!”

Jensen rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Whatever. Jared will most likely spend the whole evening reading anyway, so Jensen might as well join him, maybe try and finish the novel he’s had lying on his bedside table for over a month. They can curl up on the bed and make a night out of it. Just as long as they keep their hands to themselves so they don’t embarrass Chris’s little lady friend.

He kinda wants to tell Chris that the same rules apply to him. He has no interest in watching Chris make out with Sophia on the couch. All that giggling. Maybe they really should start looking into apartments with more than one room. Now that Jared is spending so much time here...

Jensen pauses, frowning a little. Now there’s a thought. Yeah, it’s a bit soon, but Jared is in a damn bad shape financially, and, not that they’ve talked about it, but he can tell Jared likes it a whole lot better staying with them than in his hellhole of a dorm room. And Jensen only really feels okay when Jared is around. Sure, he needs his space every now and then, times when he just has to be by himself or he feels like he might burst right out of his skin. But when he comes back from all that, what he really wants is Jared, and he’d rather find him at home, _their_ home, than having to look him up at some shitty dorm.

“What are you working on?” Chris suddenly asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. His voice is more relaxed now, a little apologetic even. “That’s... different.”

Jensen frowns at the collection of half finished drawings in front of him. That’s one word for it. Another better suiting one would be ‘crap’. He grabs an empty page and quickly sketches Sam with her notebook.

“It’s for therapy? Huh.” Chris pokes a couple of drawings, clearly curious. “What theme?”

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/247471/247471_original.jpg)

Jensen lays out the few drawings he’s been able to finish. Jared smiling. Himself at the easel, painting. A cup of coffee, steaming hot. Chris frowns, still confused, so Jensen gives him a big fake smile, teeth and everything.

“Things that make you happy, something like that?” Jensen rolls his eyes and nods, wiggling his fingers then makes a sweep of the room. “That make life good? Okay.”

Chris looks back at the abandoned drawings. One shows a garden but the trees look more angry than serene, and there’s a black owl staring out from the branches. Another is of a book, because he likes reading, but the cover is grey with eraser smudges, because Jensen couldn’t decide on what the hell it should be about. There’s a drawing of a beach but the sandcastles are crumbled and trodden upon, and the waves are cruel and dangerous. There are more of the same, every day scenarios gone creepy and therefore automatically disqualified.

Chris shakes his head. “Come on, Jensen. You have more good things in your life than Jared and art. And coffee,” he adds with a small smile when Jensen points it out to him. Hey, coffee is important. “And these?” Chris picks up the unfinished drawings, grimacing slightly. “If these things really meant anything to you they wouldn’t look like book covers for Stephen King.”

Jensen snatches the pages out of Chris’s hand and crumples them into balls. Yeah, well at least he’s trying. What the hell is he supposed to draw? Jared naked? Okay, that does make him happy but he doesn’t think Jared would appreciate his private parts being showed off like that. He tried drawing a plate of his favorite food but the hamburger had tentacles and the fries were dripping in ketchup that looked more like blood. It’s not like he doesn’t know his mind is macabre but this is ridiculous.

“Okay, how about this? Make a list of everything in your life: what you do, what you eat, what music you listen to, what people you know... stuff like that. Good and bad. Then strike out the stuff you could live without, no regrets. Whatever is left? That’s what you should draw.”

Jensen frowns. That’s actually not such a bad idea. Apart from the list thing, seeing as his writing is fucking pathetic on his best of days. Although a list of words hardly counts as actually saying stuff so maybe he can get away with it.

“Here.” Chris slides one of Jared’s large notebooks in front of him. “Lines might help. Just use capital letters and don’t worry about the spelling. Ain’t no one gonna see it but you anyway.” He offers Jensen a small smile, and he smiles briefly back, fingers already gripping the pencil.

He sits hunched over, painstakingly writing one excruciating word after another, sweat running down his back and his fingers aching. By the time he’s finished he’s filled three pages, Jared is asleep on the bed with a book resting on his stomach, and Chris and Sophia are curled up on the couch, watching some chick-flick Jensen is going to mock Chris for forever. There are dirty dishes in the sink, and a plate covered with tinfoil on the kitchen bench. Jensen heats the food up in the microwave before sitting back down, fork in one hand and pencil in the other. Slowly but surely he starts striking out one item after another.

 

“Hmm.” She flips through the drawings, quickly skimming through them before laying them down on the table. “So this is your life. It’s quite interesting.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows. Really? That’s not exactly the word he would use. More... limited. Boring even.

There’s Jared, of course. The one of himself painting and the cup of coffee. The kids he teaches at The Black Bean. Chris making dinner. Sophia laughing. A radio with music streaming out. A family portrait.

That one was a surprise. His dad still looks strict and his mother seems close to tears. His sister only looks about seven even if she’s fifteen now and his brother has his head turned away, looking a little annoyed. It’s not exactly Happy Families but for some reason he can’t explain he just couldn’t strike them off the list.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/246589/246589_original.jpg)

There are more. Jared’s hands because Jensen thinks they deserve a drawing of their own. Jensen’s own dick because he really wouldn’t want to live without it. The two of them kissing. The view out the window by his bed. His favorite t-shirt. A bar of soap. The cat that they’ve pretty much adopted at work. Dr. Ferris writing in her notebook.

[ ](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3979/238504)

She quirks her eyebrow at that one, and he shrugs. He might not enjoy coming here, but he knows he needs it, and cutting it out of his life would only make things harder.

“Okay, this is good.”

Jensen only just keeps from rolling his eyes. They’re not good, they’re just basic drawings. There’s as much art in them as badly focused snapshots. He’s not expressing anything, he’s just... showing.

She must notice his frustration because she tilts her head, studying him. “You’re not happy with them?”

He raises his eyebrow and gestures at the folder where she keeps all his drawings from day one, asking to borrow it. She hands it over and he pulls out the early ones, laying them out on one end of the table then the new ones on the other. The difference is blatantly obvious. He gives her a pointed look and she nods thoughtfully.

“I see what you mean.” She looks up at him. “How’s the talking going?”

Jensen swallows. He shakes his head.

“Nothing at all?” She raises her eyebrows, looking a little worried. “Not even to the kids?” He shakes his head again. “Jared?” He looks away. Shakes his head again. “Does it worry you?”

He starts to nod but hesitates. Truth is he’s a little relieved. With his words gone, and his drawings being so limited there’s no point in asking him questions he can’t answer anyway. Especially not questions about... that. And God knows he doesn’t want to talk about any of it, verbally or otherwise.

“Jensen, you have to communicate somehow,” she says, bringing him out of his musings. “You can’t shut yourself off just because you don’t want to talk about things.”

He stares at her. What? Is she fucking kidding him? Does she think he’s doing this on purpose?

“Think about it. You were talking more and more. You were expressing yourself through beautifully detailed art. And now you’re doing neither. This isn’t a relapse, Jensen, it’s a defense mechanism. You know it. I’m not saying it’s deliberate but it is your doing. And the only one who can fix it is you.”

Yeah well, thanks. That’s just great. Just what he needed, another person in his life telling him to ‘get over it’. Fuck that. He’s not paying for this shit.

He’s halfway to the door, shaking with anger, when she calls out, stopping him.

“Did you tell Jared?”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Jensen, did you show Jared the file? Does he know?”

Jensen closes his eyes. Fuck. He reluctantly shakes his head.

“Why not? Do you think it will change his opinion of you?”

Jensen swallows the lump in his throat and slowly turns around, walks back and sits down. He shakes his head. No, it’s not that.

“I know you showed it to Chris,” she says quietly. “He called me, said he was worried about you, but I think he just needed someone to talk to.”

Jensen looks away. He never should have showed Chris that file. It’s none of his business. It’s no one’s business but his own.

“So now there are people who know, people you can talk to. Me, Chris, your parents. But instead you’ve gone completely silent.” She gives him a thoughtful look. “Jensen, I don’t think you’re keeping quiet to protect yourself. Not this time. I think you’re doing it to protect Jared.”

Jensen stares at her. That’s... huh. Actually that makes sense.

She nods at whatever she reads in his expression. “So why do you feel he needs to be protected? He loves you, don’t you think he would _want_ to share your burden?”

Jensen swallows. Picks up the pencil and writes ‘18’. She looks at it, uncomprehending, but then it dawns on her, and she sits back, seeming conflicted.

That isn’t the whole truth though. It’s not just because Jared is young, it’s because he is so vulnerable. Jensen hadn’t realized just how deeply Jared felt everything that was going on, until his breakdown that day, the day he got sick. Yes, he’s ten feet tall and built like a brick house, but mentally he is fragile. He’s got bruises the size of boulders on his soul from all those years of his parents’ religious bullying. He’s insecure, and hurt and lost, and lately he’s been showing pretty alarming signs of depression. So no, Jensen doesn’t want Jared to know all the horrid details. It’s bad enough that he knows the basics. He really wishes his mother had kept her goddamn mouth shut. What the fuck was she thinking? What business was it of hers, telling _his_ boyfriend anything?

“I hadn’t realized,” Sam says quietly. “You always draw him so big and strong, I actually thought he was older than you. Do you feel he’s young for his age?”

Jensen nods. In some ways Jared seems older, being so cynical and bitter, but in reality he is still growing up, catching up with the years he wasn’t allowed to develop into who he really was.

“You know, you’ve never really told me much about Jared. I mean, I know what he looks like, and that he makes you feel safe, but that’s it. How about we take a break from you, and you tell me a little about your boyfriend?”

She gives Jensen a small smile and the tension in his neck relents, just a little. A break sounds good. Yes.

“Just start from the beginning. Where did you meet?”

Jensen relaxes back on the couch, sketchbook on his knees. He’s smiling as the pencil moves over the page, quick and confident.


	13. Chapter 13

_ Summer 2010 _

__

 

_“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk. I’m sorry, Chris, but how can he work here if he doesn’t talk?”_

_“What the fuck does he need to talk for?” Chris growls._

_Jensen ignores their arguing. Either it works out or it doesn’t. Not like he has a say in the matter. Instead he breathes in the bittersweet scent of coffee in the air and tries not to stare back at those staring at him._

_He’s drawing with his finger in the sugar he’s poured on the table when he feels someone watching him. He looks up to find a boy about six years old standing by the table, studying him with interest._

_“What ya doing?” the boy asks, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.”_

_Jensen shrugs. He smoothes out the sugar then quickly draws a profile in the white grains. The boy’s eyes widen._

_[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/245926/245926_original.jpg) _

_“Is that me? Wow.”_

_Jensen offers him a small smile._

_“You should draw on paper,” the boy says. “'Cause then you can take it home with you. You can’t take sugar with you, you know.” He looks longingly at the simple drawing on the table._

_Jensen pulls a pen out of his pocket and reaches for a napkin. A few strokes and the face is transferred to soft paper, in slightly more details and a lot more likeness._

_“For you,” he says, the words scratching his throat. He holds the napkin out._

_[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/246202/246202_original.jpg) _

_“Wow. Thank you!” The boy grabs the napkin and runs over to a couple sitting a few booths over, yelling, “Mom! Dad! Look what he made! It’s me!” as he waves the already crumpled napkin at them._

_Jensen offers the parents an awkward wave when they turn around to see who the boy is talking about. When he looks up it’s to find Chris and Sophia staring at him._

_“I thought you said he didn’t talk?” she says, sounding bewildered._

_Chris blinks. He looks shaken and Jensen quickly drops his gaze back to the table._

_“I never said he couldn’t,” Chris says, voice all choked up. “He just doesn’t normally like to.”_

 

\------------

Present day

It’s late when Jensen texts Jared a smiley, their sign that he’s ready for Jared to come pick him up. Ever since he got sick, Jensen makes sure Jared waits somewhere where it’s warm, not in the truck. That usually means the nearest diner, where Jared claims the coffee is awful, but it has wi-fi, so he can get some studying done. Jensen gives him a smile and a kiss as he climbs into the truck, and Jared smiles back.

“Good session?”

Jensen shrugs indifferently, although it was. He likes drawing Jared, likes showing off his boyfriend in a way that no one seems to see him. Funny how someone so big can make himself so invisible. Sometimes he thinks no one really sees Jared the way he does, least of all Jared himself.

“Oh, damn,” Jared suddenly says. “I promised Chris we'd pick up some groceries.” He gives Jensen a sheepish look. “Should have done it while you were inside; I just forgot.”

Jensen gives him a soft smile. His eyes are drooping, the heat in the car making him sleepy. He feels relaxed and comfortable. All he really needs is a blanket, and he could easily fall asleep.

Jared smiles back at him as he swings the truck into the parking lot by their local 7/11. “I’ll just run in. You stay here and guard the car,” he says as he gets out.

Jensen snorts and closes his eyes, mouth falling open in fake sleep. He can hear Jared laughing as he walks away.

 

A low vibrating sound from Jensen’s pocket wakes him up. He blinks his eyes open, disoriented for a moment, before he remembers where he is. The car feels a little cold. When he checks his watch, he calculates it’s been at least ten minutes since Jared went inside. Jensen frowns. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and flips it open to see one text message waiting for him. Jared, of course. Jensen is already smiling as he opens it, a smile that freezes on his face when the text pops up.

“ _Drve hom tell cris call 911 i love u_ ”

He stares at the small screen. What? He turns his head to look over at the 7/11. It’s dark in the parking lot, but the lights are on in the store. He can see one person standing and at least three on the floor. The guy who’s still on his feet has his back to the door, but then he turns slightly and–

Jesus, there’s a gun in his hand!

Jensen’s vision goes momentarily blurry. He can’t catch his breath, and it feels like his heart is trying to punch its way out of his chest. A gun. The man has a gun. Oh God. And Jared... Jared is in there. Jared is _in there_!!

He looks back at the phone in his hand. Drive home? Why would he...? And then he gets it. Because _he_ can’t talk. _He_ can’t call the police and tell them what’s going on. He’s just sitting here, _useless_ , while Jared is fighting for his life in there.

Well, fuck that!

His fingers tremble, but he manages to forward the message to Chris, adding ‘ _Our 7/11. Gun. Hurry!_ ’ He kills the phone, before Chris has a chance to call back and tell him not to do anything stupid. Then he carefully opens the door and slips out of the truck.

It’s like walking in a dream or, more accurately, a nightmare. He can hear the traffic but it sounds miles away. He registers the cold but only as a concept. His heart is beating so fast he feels dizzy, and he has to bite his lip to keep from screaming. The closer he gets to the store the looser his grip on reality becomes. He can smell sweat, and cigarettes, and piss and blood, and every step is smaller than the one before as his legs get shorter and spindlier. He thinks he can see his shadow shrinking. He can definitely feel his heart grow smaller.

Jensen shakes his head, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palms and blinking his eyes rapidly. He can’t zone out now. He has to _stay_. He has to stay right the fuck here, because as little chance he has of doing anything, his ten-year-old crybaby self is even more useless. Get a grip, Ackles. Get a fucking grip.

With a deep breath he forces his legs to run the last few steps and rips the door open.

Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at him. Two of them hardly register; the pimpled teenage boy that works the counter and is now crouching on the floor, looking like he’s about to piss himself with fear; and the old lady down the road, who sometimes comes into The Black Bean with her granddaughter. They’re both people he knows, even likes as much as he bothers to like anyone, but at the moment they don’t matter.

Because there is Jared, gazing at him with such fear, and love and sadness, that Jensen suddenly knows that asking him to drive home had nothing to do with him not being able to call the cops and everything to do with Jared wanting him as far away from here as physically possible.

He rips his eyes away from Jared’s shocked gaze and to the man with the gun. The gun that at the moment is being pointed right at Jensen’s head.

Huh. This feels familiar.

“What the fuck?” the guy yells. His voice shakes. “It’s fucking closed, man! Can’t you read?”

Jensen just blinks. He hadn’t noticed the sign being turned, not that it would have mattered. His eyes are on the gun. The gun that is being aimed at his head. His head. One shot is all it would take. One shot, and he’d be dead, just like that. Just like that.

“Jensen,” he hears Jared say, really quiet. “Jensen, look at me. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Shut up!” the guy screams, taking a step forward and pressing the gun to Jensen’s temple. “You know this moron? He your boyfriend or something?”

“Yes,” Jared says. He sounds so scared. “Please, let him go. Please, he can’t... Please, just let him go.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have fucking come in here,” the guy sneers. His pupils are blown wide, rivers of sweat running down his pale face. “I can kill you, you know. I could kill you right here.”

Jensen shrugs, and the guy falters. “What are you, a fucking retard? You want to die? Hey! Answer me!”

“He can’t! Please just... please. No!” Out of the corner of his eye Jensen can see Jared slowly getting to his feet. What is he doing? This isn’t his fight. “Let him go. He’s been through enough. Please.”

The gun’s muzzle is pressing into Jensen’s skin, hard enough to bruise the bone underneath. Jared takes a step forward, and the guy jerks the gun away from Jensen’s head to point it at the new threat. That’s all Jensen needs. He strikes, his knee slamming into the guy’s crotch as hard as he can. The guy folds over, gun clattering to the floor, and Jared is on him like a tiger. There’s a struggle. There’s yelling and screaming, punches being thrown, feet kicking and things falling off shelves.

Something like that. Jensen isn’t really paying attention. His eyes are set on just one thing. One thing.

Jared gets an elbow to his face and staggers back. The guy jumps to his feet, fists raised. And freezes. “Shit.”

The gun is heavy in Jensen’s hand. The butt is warm and slick with sweat, and the trigger feels loose and easy under his finger. Huh, he never thought it would feel like this. He licks his lips. Tightens his finger on the trigger. His shoulders relax, his back straightens. He feels tall, strong. Powerful. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine. Yes. This. _This_.

“Jesus!” the guy whispers. “Don’t... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything, I was never gonna... Shit, shit, shit. Please. Please don’t shoot. Please.”

Jensen cocks his head. He likes the desperate sound in the voice. It’s new and gratifying. Begging for his life. Yes, that’s how he should go. Jensen raises his arm, feeling the weight settle against his fingers, tug at his wrist. The power is within the reach of his index finger. Just a slight curl, a slight pressure, that’s all it will take.

“Jensen? It’s okay, it’s over now. Jensen? Jensen, look at me. Give me the gun. Baby, give me the gun.”

Jensen shakes his head. No. This is it. Payback time. See, he knows that ugly motherfucking face. Those thick lips, those evil eyes. That scratchy beard. He knows that voice. He’s heard it a million times. Laughing at him. Telling him how fucking _pretty_ he is. How sweet and good and...

His hand starts to shake, his finger slipping a little on the trigger.

“No! Jensen, please. Give me the gun. He’s not worth it. He’s just a fucking junkie.”

“I’m not worth it, I swear. Please. Please don’t shoot. Please, I’m begging you. I wasn’t gonna do anything, I swear. Please. My mom... She doesn’t even know I’m here. I promised her I wouldn’t... Please!”

Jensen tightens his grip on the gun. On his knees, oh yeah. That’s even better. Crying like a baby. And look, now he’s wet himself. Jensen chuckles. Oh the irony.

“Why’s he looking at me like that? What is wrong with him? Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod...”

A sound makes Jensen pause. Sirens. Approaching rapidly. Doesn’t matter, they’ll be too late. This time _he’ll_ be the one pulling the trigger. He adjusts his hold on the gun. Smiles. Winks. Have a nice eternity in Hell, motherfucker.

“Oh fuck. Jensen, no! No. Look at me. It’s not him! It’s not him. He’s dead. Remember? He’s dead. That fucker is dead. This is _not_ him.”

“What are you talking about? Shit, he’s gonna shoot. He’s gonna kill me. Please, please, please don’t kill me.”

“Shut up! Jensen, listen to me. This isn’t him! Look at him. He’s just a kid. Just a fucked up kid. Jensen, please!”

Jensen frowns. What?

“Shit, the cops are coming. Jensen, come on! If they see you with that gun... Jensen, look at him! It’s not him! It’s a fucking kid!”

Jensen blinks. He stares at the scrawny kid crouching before him. The muzzle of the gun is pressing a circular mark into his pimply forehead. A kid. It’s just a kid. It’s not...

Jensen staggers back, the gun falling from his hand. It lands on the floor with a clatter and Jared kicks it under the counter just as the cops burst through the door. Yelling, shouting, flashes of red and blue light through the windows, guns. Guns, guns, guns.

Jensen screams.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Strong arms grab him, pressing him against a broad chest. He’s about to fight in panic, when he smells coffee and... Jared. Jared. “We’re okay. Jesus. God, you scared me. I told you to go home. I told you. Goddammit, Jensen, what were you thinking, you idiot?”

Jared’s coat feels rough and warm under Jensen’s cheek. Everything is a little blurry. He’s shaking, breath coming in cut-off hitches. “Jared?”

Jared goes absolutely still. “Yeah,” he says. His voice shakes. People are yelling and stomping all around them, but all Jensen can hear is the beat of Jared’s heart under his ear, fast and steady. “Shit, Jensen, are you okay?”

Jensen nods. “It’s not him?” he asks. His voice is low and like gravel, the words so dry they hurt his throat.

Jared pulls him tighter. “It’s not him. Jesus, Jensen, you _know_ he’s dead.”

Jensen swallows. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. Thick and dry like an old carpet. “I thought...” His breath hitches. “I wanted it to be him.”

Jared sighs. “Why? For God’s sake, Jensen, why would you want that?”

“So I could kill him. I want... _I_ want to kill him.” He starts to cry, his whole body shaking with it. “I just want to kill that fucking bastard.”

Jared’s breath hitches, his chest jumping under Jensen’s ear, and then his arms tighten around Jensen’s shoulders. “Baby, you already did,” Jared says softly. “You killed that bastard twelve, almost thirteen years ago.”

Jensen shakes his head. “I didn’t. _They_ did. I _let_ him–” He cuts himself off at the last moment before he says too much. “I didn’t do _anything_ ,” he sobs.

“You survived. Okay? You survived, and he got his motherfucking head blown off. Don’t matter that you weren’t the one to pull the trigger; he’s dead because of you. Which means he can never hurt anyone ever again. Not you, not anyone. Jensen, baby, it’s time to let him go.”

“I can’t... I can’t...”

“Yes, you can. Let him go. Just let him go, baby. Let him go. Sshh, sshh. It’s okay. He’s not worth it. He’s dead. And he’s never, ever coming back.”

\---------------

Jared stops the truck outside Jensen’s apartment building and then just sits there, hands clutching the wheel, engine still rumbling. Jensen is asleep in the seat next to him, cheek flat against the cold window, hands curled into fists in his lap.

Four hours before the police finally let them go. Four hours of Jensen shaking like a druggie aching for a fix, eyes darting around the small interrogation room in panic and paranoia. Four hours of drinking bad coffee and retelling what happened over and over again. Of repeatedly having to explain why Jensen couldn’t tell them himself.

“No, he doesn’t use sign language, there’s no use getting an interpreter. No, he can’t write. No, he’s not brain damaged! Yes, I know he was talking to me right after you got there, but that doesn’t mean he can talk now. Because that’s how his disorder works! Sir, touch him again, and I _will_ hit you. No, you can’t talk to him alone. Or me. Wherever he goes, I go. This is not negotiable. Look, what the fuck is this about anyway? We didn’t do anything! You should be on your goddamn knees thanking him for saving the fucking day!”

Jared groans and rubs a hand over his face. Thank God for the sergeant, an old army vet, popping his head in and realizing what was going on, what must only have been minutes before Jensen would have finally lost it. Ordering the fuckers to let them go now, what the hell were they playing at, they already had the perp locked up. “But sir, witnesses say he threatened to–” “Jesus Christ, stop being a dumbass and let him out of here!”

Shit, that was close. He’s never seen Jensen like that before. Like a caged animal, pupils blown so wide he looked high as a kite. Unable to sit still longer than five minutes, constantly getting up to check the door, making sure it wasn’t locked. Backing into the corner at one point and sinking to the floor before starting to bang his head against the wall. Jared had thought he was having a flashback then or maybe regressing, but Jensen had dismissed that with a shake of his head and just slammed his fist into his chest before pointing at the door, again and again, until Jared laced their fingers together, keeping him still, his other hand slipping in between Jensen’s head and the wall before he knocked himself bloody. He didn’t need words to know what Jensen meant. ‘Get me out,’ he was saying, over and over again. Bang, bang, bang. ‘I need to go. Please, Jared, get me out of here.’ It had scared the shit out of him to tell the truth.

Jensen stirs in the seat beside him, hand coming up to wipe drool off his chin before he looks around, eyes blurry and confused. Jared kills the engine and throws Jensen a reassuring smile. Chris must be going out of his mind with worry by now. Jared had called him on their way to the police station and told him what happened, but that was four hours ago.

“C’mon, Jen. We’re home. Let’s go in.”

Jensen nods. He looks drained, bone-weary, but the glaze is gone from his eyes, and when Jared comes around the other side Jensen is already out of the truck, swaying on his feet. He gives Jared a tired half-smile, when Jared puts his arm around him for support.

Jared hardly has the keys out before Chris is ripping the door open and pulling Jensen into a hug. It’s a statement to Jensen’s exhaustion that he barely even flinches, although his nostrils flare, and his breath quickens just a little.

“Are you okay?” Chris asks frantically as he steps back, patting Jensen’s face, his arms, his chest, like he’s looking for invisible bullet holes. “Jesus Christ, Jensen. Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” Jared says in a low but firm voice, and Chris immediately stops and backs off.

“Jesus, yes. Of course. Sorry. C’mon in.”

Jensen steps over the threshold then just stands there, looking dazed.

“Bed?” Jared asks softly, and Jensen nods. Jared leads him over to the bed and helps him undress then pushes him gently back on the bed and tucks him in. Jensen closes his eyes. He’s asleep within minutes. Jared stands watching, until he’s sure Jensen is out for the night, before pushing himself off of the wall and joining Chris in the kitchen.

“He’s really okay?” Chris asks. He looks shaken, like he can’t quite believe it.

“He wasn’t shot if that’s what you mean,” Jared says, sliding onto a chair and resting his elbows on the table, head in his hands. “Not sure I’d say he’s okay though. He came awful close to blowing that guy’s head off. Fuck, I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

He looks up, giving Chris a wry smile. “Know what? I didn’t care one shit if that kid lived or died. Didn’t matter to me. All I could think of was that I couldn’t let Jensen go to jail. That he wouldn’t survive one day in there, let alone more. I just couldn’t let that happen. Not to him.” He swallows. “Shit. That kid was sixteen, tops, and I didn’t care if he got his head blown off. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Jesus.” Chris sinks down on the chair opposite, sliding a beer over before twisting one open for himself. “You really think Jensen would have shot him?”

“You didn’t see him. It was... I could see it in his eyes, man. I could see what he was thinking. That was no kid he was looking at. He was staring that motherfucking sicko who kidnapped him in the face, and he was _happy_ , because he was finally gonna kill him. Jesus, Chris, he laughed. Jensen raised that gun, and he laughed, and I just knew, he had no idea what he was really doing.”

“But you stopped him,” Chris says. His voice shakes, his knuckles white where he clutches the bottle.

“Got through to him, somehow. Don’t know how, just suddenly he was back, dropping the gun seconds before the cops burst in. Just as well, because they scared the shit out of him. And then he just broke down, telling me how much he wanted that guy to be his kidnapper, how he wanted to be the one to have put the bullet in that fucker’s brain. Jesus!”

“Hold on,” Chris cuts in, surprised. “He talked? He was talking?”

“What? Yeah. A lot actually.” Jared frowns. “Like there was nothing to it.”

“And?”

“And then the cops brought us in for questioning, because the stupid 7/11 kid told them he thought Jensen was gonna kill us all, and that was it, no more talking. Just freaking out in the tiny room they kept us in.” Jared swallows. “He’s _really_ claustrophobic.”

Chris nods. “Tell me about it. Did he hurt himself?”

“Bruised his head a bit, before I managed to cushion it. May have bruised his chest too; he was banging it pretty hard with his fist. Need to check that. But nothing serious.”

“Good.” Chris takes a swig from his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s good.”

Jared hesitates before taking a deep breath and fixing his eyes in Chris. “Look, I know you guys are keeping something from me. Something about what was done to him. I need to know, man. He was freaking out, like totally flipping, and he was still holding back, still biting his tongue to keep from telling me. I don’t know why he thinks I need protection. I’m not a kid.”

Chris looks at him tired. “Jared, that’s the thing. You are.” He raises his hand when Jared angrily protests. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to know, I’m just saying... Maybe Jensen knows you well enough to not want to add to what you’re already dealing with.”

Jared stiffens. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jared, c’mon. You really need me to spell it out for you?” Chris sighs. “First off, you’re only eighteen, and that might make you legal, but it doesn’t make you a grown up, not by a long shot. And in the last few months you’ve had a lot of change in your life. You left home, started college, came out, were disowned by your family, went broke, had fucking pneumonia... All the while dealing with a seriously fucked up boyfriend, who needs you 24/7 and only gives so much in return. It’s more than anyone can deal with, let alone someone who can’t even legally buy beer yet.”

Jared looks away. Okay, maybe Chris has a point. “Just tell me one thing. Did she tell him the details? Is that what shook him up so much?”

Chris sits silent for a moment then sighs. “He got his hands on the medical report from when they brought him in. Snatched it out of her hand. I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t pretty.”

Jared swallows. “You read it?” Chris nods. “And?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I hadn’t had a heavy breakfast.” Chris shudders as if the thought is enough to make him feel sick all over again. “I mean, I knew it had to be bad but...”

“But?” Jared insists.

Chris sighs. “Jared...”

“Tell. Me.”

“He almost died. Did actually. Flatlined on the operating table but they managed to get him back. He... He’d lost a lot of blood, and they were having trouble... reaching the source.”

Jared stares at him. He blinks. Licks his lips. Then shoots up from the chair and runs to the bathroom.

By the time he gets back, Chris has finished both their beers and brought out a bottle of whiskey. They finish it in silence, straight from the neck.

\---------------

Jensen wakes up to an unfamiliar sense of calm. No rapid heartbeat, no clenching stomach, no thoughts running frantically into the walls of his skull, trying to get out. There’s just warmth, and silence and the bittersweet smell of coffee. Jared is asleep by his side, face down, mouth drooling a little on the pillow. He smells like Chris’s cheap whiskey. He doesn’t stir, not even when Jensen leans over and kisses him on the cheek before slipping quietly out of bed.

There’s freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen with a small note next to it that says:

_Gone to work. You’re staying home, no argument. Take it easy, OK?  
Chris_

Jensen rolls his eyes and pours himself a cup of coffee. He drinks it standing up, fingers tapping lightly on the kitchen counter. Once it’s drained he rinses it in the sink then heads for the bathroom. He can still smell the stale air of the police station, like bad coffee and sweat, clinging to his hair, his body. It’s making his skin crawl.

He sets the water as hot as he can take it then steps under the spray, palms flat against the wall in front of him, head hanging between his shoulders. The water beats upon his back, a waterfall of heat that soaks into his skin and drills into his bones. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply. In. Out. In. Out.

Then he slowly straightens up, squares his shoulders and lets his head fall back.

\-----------

By the time Jared wakes up, the sun is shining through the windows, and the early morning traffic has already slowed down to its pre-lunch quiet. There’s an odd but familiar smell in the air, but he doesn’t grasp what it is, until he rolls over and sees Jensen standing by his easel.

Jared lays his head back on the pillow and steals a moment, just taking in the sight. It feels like it’s been forever since he last saw Jensen painting. Seeing him standing there sends a warm feeling through Jared’s chest, and he breathes in, smiling as the smell of paint and turpentine tickles his nose in a weirdly comforting way. It feels a little like coming home, and for once that thought doesn’t make him feel sad. With a yawn he gets up, pulling on his jeans before walking over.

“Hey,” he says softly and lays his hand lightly on Jensen’s shoulder, trying not to startle him. Jensen just leans back against Jared’s chest before looking up with a smile. “You’re painting again.”

Jensen shrugs like it’s nothing, but the smile stays on as he looks back at the painting in front of him. It shows an open window, its paint scratched, and the glass dirty. But outside there’s a beautiful sunny day, and a landscape of green grass and trees. The boy pushing the window open is small and dirty. A butterfly is fluttering over to settle on his outstretched hand.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/248418/248418_original.jpg)

Jared wraps his arms around Jensen and lays his head on his shoulder, gazing at the painting in front of in him. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers.

Jensen shrugs again, but he looks pleased.

Jared isn’t lying. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jensen paint anything so... hopeful. “I like the butterfly.”

Jensen chuckles. He lays the pencil down on the easel’s small shelf and turns around in Jared’s arms, looking up at him with a grin.

“What?”

Jensen bats his eyes and jerks his head toward the painting before looking up at Jared again, quirking one eyebrow.

“That’s me? I’m a butterfly?” Jensen’s smile grows even wider, and Jared can’t help grinning with him, even if he feels a little puzzled. Butterfly? Really? “Huh. That’s... gay.”

Jensen laughs again, pushing Jared lightly with the palm of his hand, like he can’t be assed to smack him properly.

“I’m kidding!” Jared leans forward to catch Jensen’s lips in a kiss. “I like it.” That’s an understatement. Jensen’s art can be hard to figure out sometimes, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what he’s trying to say with this one. And being a part of that revelation, however small and flimsy, touches Jared more than he can say. “We should get a decent frame and hang it up.”

Jensen nods. He smiles a little to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners. It makes Jared want to sweep him off his feet and carry him to bed.

“You had breakfast yet?” he says instead. “Or...” He checks his watch and cringes. “...lunch?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Just coffee,” he elaborates then coughs, grimacing at the scratchy sound of his own voice. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jared tells him, leaning in to kiss him on the neck, like that might help. “I think your voice is sexy. Kinda like Tom Waits. You wanna sing _Waltzing Matilda_ for me?”

Jensen laughs, his face going a little red. “Idiot,” he says fondly and throws Jared another smile before pushing away and heading for the kitchen. “Here or...” He stops, coughs then tries again but this time there’s only the strangled noise of words once again caught in his throat. His face falls. He looks so dejected Jared can tell he thought that maybe this time his words were there to stay.

“Let’s go out,” Jared says, acting as if he didn’t even notice Jensen going silent. “I have a mad craving for waffles.”

Jensen smiles and rolls his eyes. He still looks disappointed though, so Jared kisses him until the only emotions left in Jensen’s eyes are lust and love.

 

 

“How’s your head?” Jared asks casually, once they’re heading downtown. Frankly he’s not sure how much he should talk about what happened. He’d hate to ruin Jensen’s confusingly good mood.

Jensen just frowns at him, so Jared reaches over and lays his hand on the far side of Jensen’s head, searching for the bruise he knows to be there. Jensen flinches, his hand shooting up to touch his head. He looks surprised, but then he obviously remembers, and his face turns a little pink. He gives Jared a wry smile and shrugs, fingers still prodding the tender part of his scalp.

“Feels like quite the bump,” Jared says, keeping his voice neutral. “Does it hurt?”

Jensen shakes his head then grimaces, wiggling his fingers just a little. Jared nods thoughtfully.

“How you feeling otherwise? You sleep okay?”

He shoots Jensen a glance, relieved to see him nodding. He looks a little puzzled though, opening his mouth then closing it again and biting his lip in thought.

“There’s a sketchbook in the glove compartment,” Jared reminds him.

He keeps his eyes on the road, avoiding potholes and uneven patches as best he can while Jensen draws. When stopping at a red light he glances over, but Jensen is hunched over, the sketchbook slightly tilted to keep it safe from Jared’s prying eyes. Jared smiles to himself. It’s funny how self-conscious Jensen can be while he’s working, as if the process isn’t as amazing to watch as the result.

Jensen keeps his head bowed even when Jared swings in at the parking lot at the diner they chose for brunch and comes to a halt. He turns the engine off and leans back in his seat, humming slightly to himself as he waits for Jensen to finish. It’s weird but it’s like that whole damn disaster last night loosened up the knot that’s kept Jensen so wound up lately. He seems more like his old self somehow. Painting again, smiling more freely, not as much on edge. Who knew holding a gun point-blank to a stupid kid’s head would make such a difference?

Jared shivers, the smile slipping away. Shit, that was without a doubt the scariest thing he’s ever witnessed in his whole life. He doesn’t know what terrified him more, staring into the barrel of that gun, seeing it pointed at Jensen, or the moment he realized what was going on inside Jensen’s head. Just the thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t managed to get through to Jensen in time has Jared feeling sick to his stomach.

He hadn’t realized Jensen resented himself so much for what happened to him as a child. Not like he doesn’t know abuse victims often suffer from feelings of guilt, but in Jensen’s case it just seems so absurd. What on earth does Jensen expect his kid self to have done? Not that Jared knows all the details – thank God! – of Jensen’s captivity, but the news articles mentioned him being kept locked up in a makeshift cell in the basement of his kidnapper’s house. Iron bars and no windows. And he’d been starved, and beaten, and raped and, Jesus Christ, ten years old! An adult would have given up under less threatening circumstances.

From what Jared’s read most kids’ survival instinct doesn’t really focus so much on finding a way out, as it does on finding ways to cope, especially in situations as hopeless as Jensen’s. Being trapped like that with no way out and no means to fight back, kids tend to use the only option they have left, detaching themselves from what’s happening in the futile hope that it will all just go away on its own. He’s pretty sure Jensen’s therapists and parents as well as everyone else around him have explained that to him many times, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Jensen still seems to feel he should have done something to save himself.

Jared jumps when Jensen suddenly waves a hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention. He’s smiling, clearly clueless about the dark direction of Jared’s thoughts.

Jared smiles back and hopes it looks genuine enough. “Sorry, spaced out there for a sec.” He nods toward the sketchbook lying facedown on Jensen’s lap. “You done?”

Jensen wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Need fuel,” he says, face lighting up when he hears his own voice. “Food, coffee, you. Not necessarily in that order.”

Jared grins and reaches over to cup the back of Jensen’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. “I vote me first.”

Jensen breathes a laugh into his mouth, a laugh that turns into a soft moan as the kiss deepens. He fists his hand in Jared’s coat, pulling him closer, and then they’re really kissing with Jared’s fingers tugging at Jensen’s hair, and Jensen twisting in his seat, his leg scooting over, until it’s sliding between Jared’s, shifting him half into Jared’s lap. The sketchbook tumbles to the floor as Jared grabs Jensen by the hip, trying to pull him closer, his breath hitching when Jensen’s hands slide in under his coat and fights with his shirt. And suddenly it hits him: he could have lost this. He could have lost Jensen. Jensen could have been shot by the kid, or the cops or jailed, and... Jesus Christ, he came so close to losing this!

“Love you,” he whispers against Jensen’s mouth. “God, Jensen, I love you so much.”

Jensen pulls back, gazing at him with wide blown eyes in a flushed face. He’s panting, his chest heaving for breath, his fingers digging into Jared’s side, hard enough to hurt.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely.

They both go absolutely still, staring at each other in surprise. Then Jared’s face splits into a grin so wide his face hurts. There’s a lump in his throat the size of an orange, and he’s pretty sure there are tears glittering in his eyes but hell if he cares.

“I know,” he says and laughs, feeling elevated with happiness. “I know, I know. You totally love me.”

A smile tugs at Jensen’s lips. “I love you,” he says again, a little stronger this time, and the smile breaks out in full. “I love you.”

“You keep saying that, I might start thinking you mean it,” Jared says, laughing again when Jensen punches him in the shoulder. “Ow. Love hurts.”

Jensen laughs and punches him again, and then he loops his arm around Jared’s neck and pulls him in tight, crushing him to his chest. “I love you,” he murmurs into Jared’s ear. “I love you.”

Jared buries his face in Jensen’s neck. Heat prickles behind his eyes, and he feels like his heart might burst right out of his chest. He wraps his arms around Jensen, breath hitching when he meets no resistance at all. “I love you, too,” he says quietly. “I love you so much.”

Jensen’s breath shivers hot and damp down Jared’s neck. He doesn’t let go, until Jared’s stomach rumbles loudly in the silence of the car, and even then it’s with a reluctance that Jared can well identify with. He only lets go of Jensen as long as it takes him to get out of the car and reunite with him on the other side, his arm slipping around Jensen’s shoulders and pulling him as tight as he dares.

 

It’s not until hours later, when they’re back home that Jared remembers Jensen’s drawing. He doesn’t say anything but while Jensen is taking his usual bedtime shower Jared sneaks out to the truck, finding the sketchbook still lying facedown on the floor. He only hesitates a moment before turning it over. The page is damp with melted snow, the soft pencil strokes a little faded where the paper has gone translucent.

It’s a picture of Jensen and his younger self in a cemetery. They’re walking away from an open grave, the kid’s hand clutched in Jensen’s. The kid is looking back over his shoulder, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening, but the grown up is looking straight ahead. His face is still unfinished, like Jensen hadn’t been sure what expression to show but the eyes are clear and open, fixated on a tall familiar figure standing a little further off, waiting for them.

Jared touches the strong clear lines making up Jensen’s grown up image before moving over to stroke over the vague, ghostlike small boy behind him. It’s like the kid is fading away, finally allowing Jensen’s adult self to take over.

Jared takes a few quiet breaths before returning the sketchbook to where he found it. When he walks back into the apartment his steps feel lighter than they’ve been in years.

\---------

Christmas morning comes with more snow and the exchange of presents. Lots of warm clothes for Jared from Chris and Jensen, while he ended up buying them stupid things from the dollar store. Which he’d feel a lot more embarrassed about if they hadn’t made Jensen smile as wide as if Jared had brought him the moon. They eat roasted chicken for dinner then cuddle up on the couch to fight over which holiday movie to watch on TV. Easy, simple. Quiet. Not that Jared really expected anything extravagant, but it’s just so different from what he’s used to.

Back home Jared’s parents’ house will be filled with relatives who arrived on Christmas Eve and will be staying all through the night until late tomorrow. His mother barely waits for Thanksgiving to be over before she starts decorating every available surface inside the house with angels and holly, and all the Christmas crap that Jensen sneers at. The house will smell heavenly, his sister singing carols as she helps their mom with the food. His dad will look put upon by all the fuss but still he tries to outdo their neighbors every year with the lights. Everyone will be smiling and laughing and expressing their love for each other.

Okay, so every five minutes someone will be praising the Lord, and thanking Him for baby Jesus and all He sacrificed for “Us, His children.” Which doesn’t include anyone not up to their standards, and that means Jared now. And then there is the two hour long sermon Christmas Eve and again Christmas morning, where the pastor takes great pleasure in describing what kind of hellfire awaits the unholy, and everyone sits nodding smugly because of course they are all destined for Heaven. Jared used to sit there with his head bowed and his hands clasped, feeling sick and scared, thinking ‘What if it’s true? What if I _am_ going to Hell because God _hates_ me?’

He looks down at Jensen, lying stretched out on the couch with his head in Jared’s lap. His eyes are closed, his mouth is slightly open. He looks calm, happy. So beautiful he takes Jared’s breath away. But if Jared’s parents walked in right now they wouldn’t see beauty, they wouldn’t see happiness, they wouldn’t even feel pity for the boy Jensen was or admiration for the man he’s managed to become despite all odds. In fact it wouldn’t surprise Jared in the least if they said it was all God’s will. ‘God knows everything,’ Jared’s mother would probably say. ‘He can see inside a child’s heart, He can see its evil thoughts. If the boy had been pure, if he had walked in God’s path, nothing bad would have happened to him. He would have been saved. Let that be a lesson, Jared. The boy’s suffering is nothing compared to what awaits him in Hell.’

A hand lands upon his, jerking Jared out of his thoughts. Chris is giving him a worried look, he brushes a hand under his eyes and raises his eyebrow. Jared swallows and touches his cheek, embarrassed to find it wet. He wipes the tears away with his fingers, careful not to wake Jensen. Chris nods, squeezes his hand, then stands up, slowly as to not make a sound, and moves into the kitchen area. Jared can hear him fetching glasses so there’s no surprise when Chris hands him a tumbler with whiskey a few moments later. He takes a sip and grimaces slightly, still not used to strong drinks, then takes a bigger gulp to swirl the alcohol in his mouth. It burns going down. Chris sits down again, the bottle put on the table in front of them, and raises his glass in salute. Jared nods and they drink up, Jared with considerable more effort than Chris. He doesn’t object though when Chris fills up his glass again.

Jensen is snoring in his lap, Bing Crosby is singing _White Christmas_ on TV, and the burn in Jared’s belly slowly wins over the one in his heart.

When the movie is over and the bottle contains considerably less than it did an hour ago, Chris gets up and fetches his coat.

“I’m going to Sophia’s,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t wait up.”

Jared raises his glass and drains the last drop. He’s feeling ready for bed anyway.

Chris hesitates at the door then comes up behind the couch and grips Jared’s shoulder. “Family is not blood and names, Jared,” he says quietly. “Family is _this_. Being there for each other. Taking care of each other. Okay?”

Jared just nods, he couldn’t get a word out even if he tried, not with that lump lodged in his throat. Chris squeezes his shoulder then lets go and walks out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Jared sits still, carding his fingers through Jensen’s hair and staring out the window at the Christmas lights flickering outside. It’s snowing again, beautiful white crystals covering everything. They don’t get that down in Texas, he thinks, and somehow that makes him feel a little bit better.


	14. Chapter 14

_ August 2010 _

__

 

 _“No. No, Jensen. This is completely absurd. We put you through that school because you have_ talent. Talent _, Jensen. Talent which you can use to your advantage but not if you’re wasting time making coffee for goddamn college brats. This is your ticket to a future, a chance to make something out of your life, to move beyond what happened to you. So no, I’m not going to encourage this insanity of yours. You want my money, you’re moving back here and that’s my final word on the matter.”_

 _Jensen wants to punch his fist into the wall. Wants to scream, “You don’t know! You have no idea!” Wants to throw paint in his dad’s face and stab him with his sharpest pencil. Wants to yell, “_ What _happened to me? Tell me! Because I don’t know. I don’t know and no one will tell me. It’s my childhood, my past, my fucking trauma, and I don’t even know what happened! Do you know what that’s like? Do you have any idea what the fuck that feels like to have this huge chunk of memory gone from my head?”_

_He wants to cry and sob and crawl into his dad’s arms and ask, “Why me? Why did you let that happen to me? Why didn’t you save me?” Wants to hide under the table and whisper, “I think he did something to me. I think maybe he hurt me. Like _that_. Because everything feels wrong and nothing I do makes it better. Please, dad, say that he didn’t and I’ll believe you. I will. Because you’re my dad and dads don’t lie. Dads don’t lie.”_

_They gaze at each other in tense silence and then Jensen turns around and walks out of the house, across the lawn and climbs into Chris’s truck. After a brief hesitation Chris starts the engine and they drive off._

 

\------------

Present day

“So... I hear you had quite the adventure.”

Jensen looks at her, frowning. There had been something in the news about the robbery, but their names had been kept out of it. So how...?

“Chris called me,” Sam explains.

Of course. Jensen rolls his eyes. Typical.

“He’s worried about how it might be affecting you. Should he be?” Jensen shrugs, looking away. “Are _you_ worried?”

Is he worried? Well, yeah. He almost shot a kid, because he was hallucinating, or projecting or whatever the hell it was that happened. His mind went to some place he doesn’t even know. Sure he’d imagined killing the bastard a few times, but it was all hypothetical. Obviously. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead. He’d never imagined himself acting on it, probably because short from peppering the fucker’s headstone with bullet holes there wasn’t much he could do to indulge his fantasy.

That’s probably what he should be worried about, having those kinds of fantasies to begin with. Killing a human being. Even if the guy deserved it ten times over, that’s not what it’s about. It’s about Jensen apparently being the kind of person who can look a man in the eye while putting a bullet in his brain. He’s not really the most moral person there is, but even he knows that’s not exactly a trait to admire. That that’s probably not the kind of man Jared should be with.

He nods, raising his hand and finger-shooting an imaginary person in front of him. Then he looks at her and shakes his head, feeling so tired all of a sudden. He covers his face with his hand for a moment, needing a brief break from her inquisitive gaze.

Because he’s not really that worried about being a potential serial killer. Not as much as he’s confused about the strange feeling of elevation since it happened. What is that? The thrill of the kill? He almost kills a guy, and now he’s _happy_? That, _that_ is worrying. Like, psychopathic kinda worrying. Is that where he’s going now, moving on from the joys of PTSD to the absolutely fabulous world of psychopathy?

“I...” He swallows. “I feel... better.” He risks a glance up, not sure what to expect. She just keeps her gaze on him, clearly waiting for him to continue. “Lighter. Like...” He closes his eyes and puts his hands to his chest, breathing in deeply before letting it out in a rush. When he opens his eyes again she is smiling at him.

“Like a weight has been lifted off of you?” He nods, then looks away, uncomfortable. “That worries you? That you feel relief?” He nods again. “You think it’s bad to feel better?”

He rolls his eyes and mimics shooting the gun again.

“Yes, but you didn’t.” She smiles when he taps his head in frustration. “Fantasies aside. Are you afraid something like that might happen again?”

He shakes his head. No. He can’t really explain it, but it’s like the ghost of his kidnapper has faded. He used to be this huge ever-present force of darkness in Jensen’s head, and now he’s just... Well, not gone, but he’s not as overwhelming. He’s not as real. He feels more… dead. Which frankly is about time. It’s been close to thirteen years, it would be nice if his mind would catch up and realize that dead men don’t cast shadows.

“When you held that gun,” she says, “preparing yourself to shoot, who were you? Yourself or the kid?”

Jensen frowns. He was himself but he could feel the kid, inside. The anger was all his but the urge to pull the trigger, to make the bad thing go away, he thinks that was probably the kid.

A snapshot of a memory suddenly flickers through his mind. Him as a kid playing video games with his brother. Bang, bang, bang and down they went, every monster that dared to cross their paths. Yelling "Shoot it! C’mon, Josh, shoot it!" and then laughing in triumph when another bad guy bit the dust. He blinks, and the memory shuts off, just like that. Frantic he grabs a pen and paper and draws a quick sketch, trying to capture the image in case it slips away again. When he hands it over to Sam it’s with great reluctance. He hasn’t had a good memory surfacing in what feels like years. He’ll have to paint it when he gets home, just in case.

“This is your brother, Josh? You two used to play together? Before it happened.”

He nods, swallowing. His breath hitches. “Josh killed the monsters. We... we won.”

“Games aren’t real life, Jensen,” Sam says gently.

He huffs in frustration. “I know.” He points at the drawing. “He doesn’t.”

She looks confused. “He...?”

“Me,” he clarifies hoarsely then starts coughing as the words get caught in his throat.

She points at the glass of water on the table. “Remember, keep your voice low.”

He nods. Drinks slowly and clears his throat before trying again. Whispers, “The kid. He thinks he... _I_ should have fought back. Killed the monster.” He shudders a laugh. “Stupid.”

She dismisses the last remark with a small shake of her head. “You say ‘he’. Is the kid angry with himself or is he angry at you?”

Jensen frowns. “Not... not angry. Disappointed. In me.”

“He thinks you should have saved him.” She leans back again, thoughtful. “Like Josh, your big brother, saved you when you were playing videogames.” He nods. “So how does he expect you to do that? Invent a time machine and go back, using your grown up body to save your ten year old self?” She smiles when his face flushes red. “He’s not very rational, is he?”

Jensen shrugs but he can’t help a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Do you think he expected Josh to save him?”

Jensen thinks about that for a moment. That memory flash is the first one he’s ever had of interacting with his brother pre-trauma, but the feeling he felt with it... Hero worship. Trust. Blind faith. Yes.

She nods as well. “What was your relationship like after you got back?”

Jensen frowns. He remembers Josh, standing in the hall at the hospital, looking through the crack in the door. Hands curled into tight fists by his side. So angry. And then he’d turned around and run out. Jensen wants to say he didn’t care, but the truth is he hated Josh for a long time after that.

He draws a quick sketch to explain and hands it over, his hand shaking slightly. She looks at it, writes something down in her notebook, and then adds it to the pile on the corner of the table before looking back up at him.

“You feel very protective of Jared, don’t you?”

He frowns, not sure what she’s getting at. Gives her a ‘duh’ expression. She smiles.

“Because you’re older. You feel responsible. Kinda like a big brother. You know what I mean,” she adds with an admonishing smile when he snorts. “How would you feel if something happened to him?” She ignores his glare, just raises her eyebrow and waits for him to get it.

Oh. He bites his lip. Remembers all the times Josh tried to approach him after that, and how he didn’t give his brother even a smile. Mostly turned his back on him and pretended he couldn’t hear him. Struck out if he tried to touch him. Didn’t even say goodbye to him before he left with Chris. It’s been almost two years since he saw Josh last. Sometimes he has trouble remembering what he looks like.

“You ever think maybe he feels guilty for not coming to your rescue? Big brothers are supposed to look out for their little brothers. He failed. Right?”

Jensen frowns. Shakes his head. He doesn’t blame Josh for that. He doesn’t really feel much of anything about Josh, not anymore.

“When’s the last time you talked to him?” He shrugs. “You can’t remember?” He looks away, shakes his head. “What...? Oh. Never? You’ve never talked to him? You didn’t play or just spend time together? Nothing? Why?”

He gives her a pointed look. He didn’t play or spend time with anyone. Doesn’t she get that? He went to school, his mother driving him back and forth every day, never letting him out of her sight. Their garden was like a fortress with a high fence, keeping him in. He went to therapy, hating every moment of it. He read books that his mother picked up at the library for him, most of them boring drama, because God forbid he’d read something that would further traumatize him. He drew pictures and painted. The only person he interacted with outside his family was Chris, because Chris... Chris never expected him to talk. About the kidnapping, about anything. He was just there, safe and solid by his side. The big brother Josh wasn’t anymore. The one who beat up the few kids who dared to tease him and acted as a buffer between him and his parents when he felt like they would smother him.

“Well, maybe you should contact him. Try to patch things up. You could make it one of your steps,” she suggests.

He looks at her, incredulous. Contact Josh? How? He’s down in Texas. What’s he supposed to do, send him drawings?

“Don’t be like that. There are ways. Like... you can Skype. He talks to you, you draw pictures and show them to him. Same as we do, just over the computer.”

Jensen snorts. Yeah, right. What would be the point, anyway? Josh is living his own life with his undoubtedly boring wife. He’s probably got a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids by now. Chances are he doesn’t even remember he has a brother.

She puts down her notebook, looking exasperated. “Okay, I’m gonna be blunt with you because this is clearly something you need help with. Remember what we talked about? Other people’s emotions, Jensen. Just because you don’t think you’re worthy of his time doesn’t mean _he_ feels that way. It’s not just about how you see things, it’s also about how they see them.”

He sighs. Yeah, yeah. That’s different though. This is now. It’s been years. Why would Josh even care?

“The way you feel about Jared, remember? Those feelings of love, and the urge to protect him? Your family still feels that way. Always has.” She smiles. It looks a little sad. “I’ve talked to your parents, Jensen. I know you’ve had your differences, but they do love you. Very much.”

He sighs. So they keep telling him. He still doesn’t understand why. He’s done nothing to make them even like him. They should feel relieved to be rid of him. All he ever did was make them miserable.

“One day I’m going to remind you of this talk, and you’re going to feel so embarrassed,” she says lightly, but there’s pain in her smile that she can’t quite hide. “Just think about it, okay?”

He rolls his eyes but raises his arm. Hand to God, he promises mockingly.

“Smartass. So, have you been doing the vocal exercises?”

He glares at Sam. Yes, he’s been doing his goddamn exercises even if he sounds like a baby seal dying. It’s fucking humiliating, that’s what it is. Of all the things they put him through back home, he hated speech therapy most of all. If anything it’s even worse now. Then he’d mostly been bored and annoyed. Now he’s frustrated and feels like a fucking failure. He’s not ignorant, he’s actually read up on this thing. Weeks, maybe months, that’s what it takes for people to overcome this kind of mutism. So what does it say about him that it’s been almost thirteen years, and he’s still stuck?

“I know you’re hoping it will fix itself, but, Jensen, you can’t rely on that. Overcoming something like this, usually you have to work for it. If that is indeed what you really want, Jensen. Is it?”

He swallows his pride. Clears his throat and whispers, “Yes.”

“Okay. So do your homework. Focus on just whispering, we’ll worry about volume later.” She smiles when he scowls at her. “Don’t give me that look. I asked Chris, he says you can laugh, quite loud even. No whispering there. It’s the same function, you know that. If you can do one, you can do the other. You just have to believe it.”

He sighs. He knows all that. It’s just... It’s just that he is getting better. He knows he is. He’s painting more than ever, the colors are brighter, the images not as creepy. He’s not crying at the drop of a hat anymore, thank God, although he still gets teary-eyed for stupid reasons. He hasn’t had The Voice visit his nightmares since the 7/11 incident. These are all clear signs of him getting better. So how come he still can’t talk?

He gets it, okay, the whole psychological reason for him being practically mute. According to Jared the kidnapper told the kid to be quiet, so that’s what he’s doing. Being fucking quiet. Doesn’t matter how many times he tells his stupid brain that, with the shithead dead and buried, the threat has been lifted. Who’s gonna punish him if he talks? The guy’s goddamn ghost? It’s ridiculous. The fucker apparently also told him not to cry, and he’s doing plenty of that. And whatever the third rule was, he’s probably broken that as well. He figures it had something to do with being a good boy and bending over when told to. Whatever. He really doesn’t want to think about it, and it’s not like it matters anyway.

The thing is that all these years it’s never really bothered him that he couldn’t talk. Sure it’s frustrating at times, especially when he’s pissed off, and flipping people the finger, or slamming doors just doesn’t quite get the point across. But apart from that he hasn’t really had any great need to express himself verbally, about anything. Apparently it’s part of his whole disorder thing, has a fancy French name and everything. _La belle indifference_. Meaning fucked up people like him just don’t care that they’re fucked up. Not in that way anyway. They feel comfortable in their disability, hiding behind it like the cowards they are. The coward he is. Because as long as he can’t talk, he doesn’t have to talk about _that_ , and ain’t that just too bad. Insert sarcasm as needed.

Yeah, he gets it. He thinks it’s stupid, but he still gets it.

But that was then. Now... now he’s ready to talk. He’s so goddamn sick of this fucking silence. Christ. Just give him some words, goddammit. He can mouth the words, he can breathe out; but try doing it at the same time to make some actual sounds? Yeah, no. That only works once in a blue moon, and never when he really wants it to. Fucking stupid words. He growls in anger.

“Okay, let’s leave that for now,” Sam indulges him. “How’s Jared?”

Jensen relaxes. Picks up the sketchbook and starts drawing.

 

 

“Jared not home yet?”

Jensen shakes his head, smiling a little at the way Chris says home. It’s not just his and Chris’s anymore, it’s just as much Jared’s, even if he insists on keeping most of his clothes at the dorm. Only times he actually sleeps there though is when he has an early class or test, and even then it’s reluctantly.

“He’s struggling, you know,” Chris says after a while, his voice serious. “You need to keep an eye on him. Make sure he takes care of himself.”

Jensen nods. Jared is still looking a bit pale, and he’s way too quiet. Which is another reason why Jensen wishes he’d just move in already. He doesn’t like the idea of Jared alone and depressed in class or at the dorm. At least when he’s living here Jensen can make sure Jared eats and sleeps and has someone to talk to. Additionally, getting Jared to talk to someone who can actually talk back would probably not be such a bad idea.

“But you feel better?” Chris says, interfering his thoughts. “Right? You look better. I’d go so far as to say you look happy,” he adds awkwardly.

Jensen shrugs, but he can’t help smiling a little. He does feel happy. Well, happier than he ever has before in his life as far as he can remember. It’s not perfect, but it’s far from the mess he was just a few weeks ago. Hell, it’s galaxies from the lonely, bitter bastard he was before Jared walked into his life. Sure it’s been hard, changing so much, _caring_ so much, dealing with everything a relationship entails, including the bad sex. But the good parts outweigh the bad ones at a thousand to one. And even when they don’t, knowing he has Jared waiting for him at the other end of the tunnel makes living so much more bearable.

“Maybe this is it,” Chris says. He sounds so hopeful, and Jensen’s heart sinks, because he knows what’s coming. He looks up and sure enough, Chris is gazing wistfully out the window. “Maybe this was all you needed. Someone like Jared to get through to you. You’re even talking now. Well, not right this minute, but, you know. You _can_ now. Sometimes. And it will get better with time. I mean, if you do those exercises. And once you’re talking...”

Jensen slams his palm down on the table, making Chris finally look at him. Jensen holds his gaze, waiting for him to catch on, and he can tell the moment Chris does. The smile goes stale and the bright hope in Chris’s eyes dims, until all that’s left is sad desperation and stubbornness.

“You haven’t had a flashback in weeks. You’re so much more relaxed. You’re...” Chris shakes his head when Jensen just sighs. “Don’t. Don’t be like that. You’re doing fine! Better every day. It’s all finally happening. So why won’t you believe–”

“Chris,” Jensen cuts in, “Don’t–” That’s as far as he gets before his voice shuts off. Fuck.

“Just because some doctors say–”

Jensen picks up his pencil and snaps it in two, right in front of Chris’s face.

“Jesus! What are you doing?”

Jensen holds his gaze as he puts the two parts of the pencil together. The moment he lets go of one end the pencil falls apart again, and he ends up with one half in his hand, the other lying on the table between them. He fits them together again, splintered ends sliding into each other, but they only keep as long as he holds on to both ends. He lays the pencil down on the table then looks up at Chris with a solemn face.

Chris shakes his head. “What?”

Jensen sighs. He points at Chris with his left hand and picks up one half of the pencil. Then draws a J on the table with his right before picking up the other. Again he fits the pieces together then lets go off the pencil. It falls down on the table, once again broken into two pieces.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. Me and Jared are the glue that hold you together. You can’t unbreak a broken thing. Blahblahblah. But you’re not a dead thing, okay? You’re living. Like bones, right? They heal. They grow whole again, and it’s like they were never broken in the first place. Right? Who’s to say your mind can’t do the same?”

“You ever break anything?” a voice says, and they both jump.

The door falls shut as Jared dumps his backpack on the floor before walking over and giving Jensen a kiss on the top of his head. Jensen leans back, breathing out when Jared wraps his arms around him.

“I broke my hand five years ago,” Jared says calmly. “It still hurts sometimes, and that was just this tiny bone. With Jensen... I can imagine it’s more like breaking your spine. If the break is bad enough, you end up paralyzed. I’m not saying you’re paralyzed,” he adds quickly when Jensen turns to frown up at him, “but chances are you’re gonna be walking with at least a limp the rest of your life.”

“So that’s it?” Chris says incredulous when Jensen nods. “You’re just gonna give up?”

Jensen flinches. It took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that he would never be cured. Better, yes. Good, maybe. Normal? No. Never. That doesn’t mean he has made his peace with it. It sucks, it’s not fair, and most of his anger issues have to do with exactly this, his inability to accept that this is his lot in life. That this is his life. It’s hard enough, without having to deal with other people’s disappointment as well.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” Chris sighs. “I just want you to be okay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Whatever. Jensen shakes his head and stands up, impatiently shrugging Jared off when he tries to hold him back. He heads for the door but stops and turns back, fixing his gaze on Chris.

“Not giving up,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Still here, right?”

Chris swallows. He nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you are. Thank you.”

Jensen gives him a curt nod and shifts his gaze to Jared. “Walk?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jared throws Chris a small smile. “We’ll pick up some food. Chinese okay?”

“Fine with me. Jensen?”

Jensen shrugs. He’s not really hungry but whatever.

It’s cold outside. The air smells of snow, and Jensen keeps a distrustful eye on the clouds. He might tolerate water on his face now, but that doesn’t mean his phobia has just disappeared. He can control the shower, shut it off or step out if needed. Rain and snow are a different matter.

“He just feels helpless, because he can’t magically make you better,” Jared says quietly. “I can relate, just so you know.”

Jensen sighs. He really doesn’t want to talk about this. They’re supposed to be focusing on his progress, on what he _can_ change, not the things he can’t. That’s what Sam keeps telling him, and he’s trying. He’s trying, okay, but it’s hard, when the one thing he _can’t_ change is so fucking big.

“You wanna make out on the couch tonight?” Jared offers. “You can whisper dirty things into my ear in that sexy whiskey voice. I’ll even let you blow me, if you ask nicely.”

Jensen snorts. “Or you can fuck me,” he suggests casually.

Jared’s face falls. “Jensen...”

“Forget it.” He squares his shoulders, humiliation flushing his cheeks. Why the hell did he bring that up?

“No.” Jared sighs. “I think we need to talk about this.”

Jensen shakes his head, dismissing it with an angry wave. “You don’t want to.”

“That is not why,” Jared says quietly. “Of course I want to. I want _you_. I just... I needed a break.”

Jensen nods, jaw tight. “From me kicking your face in.”

“No. It wasn’t that. I could handle that.” Jared’s arm tightens around Jensen’s shoulders. “I needed a break from... from the kid,” he finally admits. “I couldn’t handle the kid, Jensen.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. Of all the stupid excuses. “ _I’m_ the kid,” he points out coolly.

“No, you’re not. See _you_? _You_ want me. I know you want me. But the, the kid...”

Jared shudders suddenly, so violently Jensen can feel it like an earthquake in his bones. He stops, looking up at Jared in alarm. His face is pale, mouth downturned. He looks like he’s about to be sick. What is going on?

“Jensen, he’s terrified of me,” Jared says, voice filled with self-disgust. “As he fucking should be.”

Jensen stares at him, bewildered.

Jared clenches his jaw. “Don’t you get it? I’m trying to have sex with a ten-year-old! He thinks I’m... That I’m the one who... who...”

Jared’s face crumples, and that’s when Jensen finally gets it. Oh. Oh _shit_. Jesus!

“Jared,” he says, hand coming up to cup Jared’s cheek. “No.”

“I want to be with you,” Jared whispers. “I do. Don’t you ever think I don’t want you. But I can’t... Not like that.”

“Jar–” Jensen’s throat closes up, and he wants to scream in frustration. Dammit! Not now! He takes Jared’s face between his hands, forcing him to look at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he tries to say, with his eyes, with the stroke of his fingers over Jared’s cheeks. ‘I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?’

“I’m sorry,” Jared chokes, and Jensen shakes his head. He steps closer, pulling Jared’s head down for a kiss. Just presses their lips together, feeling Jared’s breath like a warm breeze on his face, then wraps his arms around Jared and holds him tight. Every time Jared says he’s sorry Jensen shakes his head and pulls him tighter, but it’s like Jared is lost in the horror of what he thinks he’s done, and he just keeps repeating it over and over again. “I’m sorry,” and “I just can’t.”

Jensen finally pulls back and looks up at him, hating himself for the misery he sees in Jared’s eyes. He pats Jared’s chest and shakes his head then hits his own chest with his fist, lips twisted into a disgusted sneer. Repeats the gesture again and again.

‘Not you. Me. It’s my fault. I never should have pushed you like that. I didn’t think. I just saw myself failing; I never even considered what it might be like for you. I’m sorry. Jared, I’m sorry.’

Jared grabs his hand, stills it. “Don’t. You’re hurting yourself,” he says quietly.

Jensen huffs. Yes, his chest hurts, he’s probably bruised his sternum, but fuck that. The only thing that matters is that Jared understands that he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing. ‘Me. It’s all me. My fault.’ He holds Jared’s gaze, until finally he sees a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

“No. You didn’t know,” Jared says. “I should have told you. I know I should have. I just... You wanted it so much and I...” He sucks in his breath. “I want to give you everything. Everything. But I can’t–”

Jensen cuts him off with a kiss, pressing their lips together, until Jared finally relaxes and kisses him back. They stand there, holding on to one another as snowflakes descend gently from the sky. Jensen keeps his eyes closed. Jared’s hair over his face like curtains, sheltering him from the snow. It doesn’t even make him shiver.

 

“You never told me about that,” Sam says. She looks worried. “Did it happen often?”

Jensen shrugs. Throws up a couple of fingers. It was probably more like five times, but it’s bad enough having to admit it happened even once, let alone that often. How could he have been so fucking stupid?

“Was he badly hurt?”

Jensen bites his lips. Clears his throat. Starts pointing at various parts of his face but stops. His hand falls to his lap, and he looks away. Then he presses one trembling hand to his chest, over his heart. What the hell do a few bruises matter when you’ve broken someone’s heart? Made them feel like...

Oh God.

He hides his face in his hands.

“You didn’t know,” she says quietly.

Jensen shakes his head. He should have known. He should have realized. He just didn’t think. He never fucking thinks. It’s all about him and his problems, and how it affects him. Never anyone else.

“How is he?”

He gives her a look. How do you think he is?

Jared says he’s fine. That yeah, it shook him up, but that was then. He’s good now. He just doesn’t want it to happen again. And it’s not going to. Jensen will make sure of that. He can’t even remember why he thought it was so important in the first place. Stupid. He was stupid. Should have known it wouldn’t work and just accepted it instead of using Jared as some kind of fucking sex experiment. It sickens him, just thinking about it. They were good, everything was good. Way better than he ever imagined it could be. Why’d he have to fuck it up by wanting more? It was damn selfish. Greedy. Stupid. So damn stupid.

“What about you? Has it changed anything for you?”

He looks up at her, incredulous. Does she really have to ask? Can’t she see he’s feeling so fucking guilty he wants to kick his own face in?

“I mean, how do you feel about that kind of sex? Of being the recipient? Do you still want it?” she elaborates.

He starts shaking his head but one look from her and he stops. Swallows. Balls his hands into fists.

“Yes,” he whispers.

God help him, he does. Nothing has changed in that aspect. He still feels like he’s missing out. He still feels inferior. More than that, he feels like... like he’s letting the sick bastard who raped him into his bedroom, into his bed. Letting some dead fucker control what he can and can’t do with _his_ boyfriend. It makes him so damn angry. So damn fucking furious.

“I want...” He stops. Grits his teeth. “I want him gone.”

“The kid?” she asks curious.

He shakes his head even if, yes, that would be great, too. “Fuller.” He chokes on the latter syllable, coughing until his eyes water. It’s the first time he’s been able to say the man’s name out loud. It should feel like a victory, but there’s just this awful taste in his mouth, like sour sweat and cigarettes.

“Gone in what way?” Sam asks. She doesn’t sound puzzled, just intrigued.

“From my home. _Our_ home. Exorcise him.” He looks up at her sharply. “I’m not crazy.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” She drums her fingers upon the notebook, looking thoughtful. “But are you sure he’s still there?”

Jensen frowns at her.

“I just mean, what happened before Christmas has made a big difference in you.” He starts to protest, but she cuts him off. “Jensen, you just said Fuller’s name. You have never said his name before. Your art is blooming. Your speech is a lot more fluid. Even if it still frustrates you, the change is clearly noticeable. You are making plans for the future, when a few months ago you would have said you didn’t have one. These are not small steps, Jensen.”

He gives her a doubtful look. What is she saying?

“I’m not saying you’re back to ‘normal’,” she continues, smiling as she does the air quotes. “We both know that’s not gonna happen. But you seem to have managed to distance yourself from Fuller to some degree, probably because by pointing that gun at someone that your mind thought was him, you finally stood up to him. He’s not dominating your life in the same way as he did before.”

She leans forward, her face serious. “You know rape isn’t really about sex, Jensen. It’s about power. If he’s lost his power over you...” She raises her eyebrow, allowing him to take the thought further.

He licks his lips. “I can’t chance...” He stops, coughs. “I’ve hurt Jared enough,” he finally settles on.

She nods, thoughtful. “I get that. But this isn’t just your decision, Jensen. It’s Jared’s as well. Talk to him. If we're right... You never know, he might be willing to give it another try.”

Jensen swallows and doesn’t say anything.

 

 

Talking to Jared proves to be even more difficult than he imagined. How do you really tell your boyfriend, ‘Let’s see if you can fuck me without my crazy younger self popping up, trying to bash your head in’? And what if Sam is wrong? What if the kid does come back? Jensen never, _ever_ , wants to see that look on Jared’s face again. He did that. He made Jared feel that way. Can he really risk that happening again for something he’s not even sure he’ll like?

“You ever think of selling your work?” Jared asks suddenly. He’s sitting by the kitchen island, eating toast and drinking orange juice, surrounded by schoolbooks.

Jensen looks over, frowning, then back at the drawing he's sketching in front of him. Seriously?

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/248289/248289_original.jpg)

“Well, not _that_ one,” Jared says, sounding embarrassed. “I’d rather keep my privates... private. But, you know, your paintings. Or the drawings. Like the ones you do of the kids, the portraits. I’m sure their parents would happily pay you for those.”

Jensen shrugs. He doesn’t mind giving them away. It’s just lines and swirls on paper, not like it’s worth anything.

“I’m serious,” Jared says, getting up and moving over to the stack of paintings in the corner. “This is art, Jen. It’s not just a hobby, it’s real art. Like this?” He pulls out a painting of the night sky view over the city. “This is so amazing. And this?” He goes over to a table where a series of drawings lie unevenly stacked amongst a collection of pencils and a dirty coffee mug. “All of these are just exquisite. Look at this.” He lifts up the one Jensen drew of him sleeping that morning. “I’m embarrassed as hell but that doesn’t keep me from seeing how beautiful it is.”

Jensen turns away. He feels uncomfortable talking about his work. It’s just what he sees, brought out on canvas or paper. And so many of them are too personal, him trying to show what he can’t say. Selling them would be like selling a diary filled with all his dirty secrets.

“I don’t mean you should sell _these_ , I just mean you could paint for a living. If you wanted to.”

It reminds Jensen a little too much of his dad, so he sends Jared an irritated glare, but Jared just rolls his eyes and comes over to kiss him on the nose.

“I said if you _wanted_ to, idiot. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, okay? I’m just pointing out the possibility. You like painting, right?” Jensen gives him a ‘duh’ look. “Right. So, having a job doing what you like wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Jensen shrugs. Suppose not. He still doubts people would want to pay for his depressing paintings. Plus, he likes The Black Bean. Okay, so he only really likes Thursdays at The Black Bean but, still, it’s something he’s content doing, working with the kids.

Oh.

He turns to Jared, blinking slowly. He could do that. Paint with kids. A workshop maybe. He feels a lot more comfortable around the kids than any adults he knows. Besides Chris and Jared. Even Sophia feels intimidating at times, because he can tell she pities him more than she understands him. And she can get really frustrated when she has to rescue him from irritated customers that just don’t get why he won’t speak to them. But the kids don’t care if he speaks or not. They’re just there to paint and draw and have fun.

“What?” Jared says confused. “Why are you staring at me like that? What did I say?”

Jensen opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and he ends up waving his hands and pointing as he gets more and more frustrated. If he can talk to Jared sometimes why the hell can’t he talk to him all the time? It’s fucking annoying.

“You, me...? Not me. You. Painting... small? Who’s small? You’re small? Ok, not you. Dude, I know what that means, and you can stick it up your own ass. I’m trying here, okay? You paint small... Oh, kids! You want to paint with the kids. That’s it? But you already do paint with the kids. I don’t get it.”

Jensen breathes out. Seriously, how slow can one person be? He stalks over to the calendar stuck to the fridge and points at the Thursday column then sweeps his hand over the whole month and looks at Jared pointedly.

“Ah. _All_ the time. You want to do that for a living. Yeah, totally. That’s a great idea.” Jared grins. “Ha, see what I did there? I read mute people!”

“Idiot,” Jensen says, as clear as a day. He throws up his hands in frustration. Seriously, now it works? He’d be pissed off if Jared wasn’t laughing like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“You should see your face,” he says, and Jensen glares at him before pulling him in for a hard kiss. That shuts him up.

 

Now the idea’s come to him it’s all Jensen can think of.

First off he needs to find a place for it. He could just have it at home, but if those kids’ parents are only half as paranoid as his own, he can’t see them trusting a half-mute weirdo with their kids in that kind of setting. So, something more public, more official. Question is where. And how to pay for it.

“You can probably apply for a grant of some sort,” Jared says thoughtfully. “Teaching underprivileged kids or something.”

Jensen hums, pencil tapping his nose. Trying to make up a lesson plan is a lot more work than he anticipated. He’s used to the kids just showing up and then he helps them with whatever they want to do.

“My sister used to draw a lot,” Jared says quietly. “Always doodling, you know. Not as good as you but...” His voice trails off. “You think she still does that?”

Jensen shrugs. How should he know? He’s never even met the girl. He frowns, sketching a floor plan. He’ll need small easels. Those are gonna cost. And all the paint and paper and pencils and...

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Jared says some time later. He gets up and comes over to stand by Jensen’s side. “You good here?”

Jensen waves him off. After some time the door closes and Jensen looks briefly up before going back to his planning. How many can he handle at once? Ten? Twelve? Maybe he can ask Jared to help out, just to make sure it doesn’t dissolve into chaos.

 

It’s dark outside by the time Jared comes back. He looks tired, but Jensen kisses him and after a while he’s smiling and pulling Jensen into his lap to make out. They even manage to get partly naked before Chris comes home, shielding his eyes before ducking out the door again, claiming he has a date with Sophia. They continue kissing after that, but somehow it’s not the same, and in the end Jared squirms away and says he has homework. Jensen sighs and gets back to his planning. He really needs to talk to Chris about their living arrangement. Sooner rather than later.


	15. Chapter 15

_ October 2010 _

__

 

_“Sophia is cool, right?”_

_Jensen hums noncommittally. He’s gnawing his lip, eyes on the canvas in front of him. It doesn’t look right but he can’t tell what’s off. Something about the color maybe._

_“We should have her over some time. You know, since we work together and all. Widen our social circle a little.” Chris pauses. “Actually I was thinking maybe, I don’t know, I could take her out to dinner. Or something.”_

_Jensen throws him a frown. He’s not following. If Chris wants to be all buddy-buddy with their employer why can’t they do it here?_

_“Like on a date,” Chris clarifies, cheeks turning a little pink. “I was thinking of maybe asking her out on a date.”_

_Jensen blinks. Oh. Chris doesn’t go on dates often. And he never brings anyone home. Not like he really can with this being a studio apartment with no locked doors except for the bathroom. It makes any kind of intimacy rather impossible._

_Chris is watching him, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction but Jensen doesn’t really know how to react. Chris’s other dates have all ended rather abruptly. Or, well, the minute they find out about Jensen. Sophia already knows about Jensen and so far she doesn’t seem too bothered. Which means if Chris and her start dating she might actually stay. As in she might want to be around, all the time. And then they’d suddenly be three instead of just the two of them and..._

_Jensen dips his biggest brush into a tin of black paint and sweeps it over the canvas in angry long strokes until there’s nothing left but black on black on black. He can feel Chris watching him but Jensen ignores him and after a while Chris sighs and walks away. He doesn’t mention it again._

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/246488/246488_original.jpg)

 

\------------

Present day

Jared drums his fingers on his thigh, eyes on Jensen. He’s painting, something obscure; Jared’s not sure what it is yet. He looks calm, shoulders relaxed and head tilted in thought. There’s a small frown of concentration between his eyes, and a smear of paint across his forehead. He’s absolutely beautiful.

“Chad wants to know if I’m rooming with him next year,” Jared says before he loses his nerve. “I told him I didn’t even know if I’d be in school next year.”

Jensen swings around, staring at him, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

Jared shrugs. “I don’t know. Not really feeling it, I guess. Thought I might just get a job, something that pays more than walking dogs. And I saw some flyers about rooms for rent–”

“No!”

He looks up. Jensen is shaking his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows repeatedly. A sure sign that he’s preparing for a fight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll find something close,” Jared assures him. “It won’t change anything.”

“Move in here.”

“What? No.” Jared laughs, startled. “C’mon, Jensen, I can’t do that. It’s your home. Yours and Chris’s. I spend way too much time here already.”

Jensen walks over to sit on the coffee table, taking Jared’s hands in his as he gazes at him, eyes pleading. “Please.”

C’mon, that’s not fair. Jared can feel his resolve crumbling, not that he had much to begin with. “But Chris...”

Jensen shakes his head. “Chris wants out.”

“What?” Jared sits back, stunned. “Dude, no. He would never walk out on you.”

Jensen’s eyes turn soft. “I know. So move in.”

“But...” Oh. “You sure you’re reading him right?”

Jensen nods. “This, us. Him and Sophia. It’s...” He coughs and clears his throat, grimacing. Finally he points his index finger at Jared, his thumb at himself and puts them together then points at imaginary parallel figures with the same fingers on his left hand before bringing all four fingers together, clashing, shaking his head.

Ah. Well, he’s not wrong there. There are only so many times you can walk in on people making out, before it starts to get to you. Even less times you can have sex with someone else in the room, before embarrassment turns into resentment. But move in together?

“He knows you so much better than I do,” Jared argues. “I’m not... I don’t always know what to do.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. Even without words the annoyance is obvious. He points at himself and lowers his hand almost to the floor then shakes his head.

“I know you’re not a kid. But... I am.” Jared drops his gaze, not really wanting Jensen to see just how freaked he is. “I want to, Jensen, I really do. I’m just... worried,” he finally admits. “I don’t know if I can be what you need. And I don’t mean that like... I’m saying _I’m_ not someone you can rely on. You or anyone.”

Jensen huffs. He stands up and walks over to the kitchen island, to grab his pad and pencil. He sits back down and quickly sketches a picture of the two of them, holding hands. He looks up at Jared, making sure he’s following before drawing a house around them and then a heart around that. Above the whole thing he scribbles the word ‘US’ and underneath ‘HOME’. He looks at Jared in question.

Jared swallows. “Yeah, it feels like home, here,” he says weakly. His throat hurts.

Jensen smiles, but his eyebrows are still raised in question.

Jared takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ll move in.”

Jensen’s face breaks into the widest smile before he tackles Jared on the couch and kisses him breathless.

 

 

When Chris comes home that night he greets the news with wounded pride and worry, mixed with badly hidden relief.

“You two have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he huffs. “Two weeks. I give it two weeks, before you’re begging me to come back. Who’s gonna cook, huh? Who’s gonna make sure to pay the bills on time? That’s right, I do all of that. Not Jensen, me. Goddamn useless the both of you.”

Jensen just flips Chris the finger, grinning manically, before pulling him into a hug that leaves Chris red-faced and stammering about ‘overemotional drama queens’, like he isn’t fighting to keep the tears in check himself.

Jared watches the display, trying to hide his own worry. Chris is right; he doesn’t know how to do any of these things. He can’t cook, he breaks every other plate he washes, he knocks over things when he vacuums. He feels helpless and useless every time Jensen has flashbacks and/or regresses. Not that that’s happened for a while now, not since they stopped their sexperiments. But he knows that doesn’t mean anything. It can always come back. It will. Hell, Jensen’s memories might come back. He’s been training with his therapist how to handle that, both the memories he has, and the ones he might get. Some kind of eye movement technique that sounds too good to be true, and he knows Jensen has his doubts about as well, but he’s trying anyway, because he’s still terrified of remembering.

And even if Jared feels a lot better himself, he’s nowhere near being all right. He feels twitchy and tired, and he misses his family so much it hurts. He misses his mom’s hugs and his dad’s proud gaze. He misses being Jeff’s little brother and Megan’s big one. He misses being part of a family. And Jensen just doesn’t get that.

‘I’m your family,’ Jensen mouths that night when Jared mentions it, looking hurt and confused. He lays his palm over Jared’s heart and grabs Jared’s hand to put over his own. ‘You, me.’

“Yes,” Jared quickly agrees. “You are. You are my family.” But somehow it doesn’t feel the same.

He still needs to find a job that pays more than a few bucks an hour if he’s going to make rent on whatever this place costs. He owes The Black Bean for gazillion cups of coffee, even if he knows Jensen will never accept his money. He’s still not sure English literature is the way to go. He failed one of his exams and has to make it up while trying not to fail the rest. He’s not stupid, in fact he’s usually wicked smart, he’s just having real trouble concentrating lately. He’s wearing a hole in his last pair of jeans. He really needs a haircut. He has no idea what to get Jensen for his birthday.

He has nightmares where he just takes Jensen, throwing him down and fucking him through the mattress while Jensen cries and screams, his body tiny and broken in Jared’s monster hands. He wakes up sweating buckets and holding his breath so he doesn’t throw up all over himself.

He’s not all right. He’s so far from all right, and Jensen has absolutely no idea.

 

 

“Hello?”

Jared closes his eyes. “Mom, it’s me. Please don’t hang up! I just... I just want to talk to you.” He can hear her hitching her breath, and that’s all it takes for him to start crying. “I miss you. I miss all of you. I just...”

The line goes dead.

“I love you.”

He sits still on the toilet for a long time, phone pressed to his ear, eyes staring blankly at the wall, before slowly lowering his arm. Then he stands up and quickly wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand before unlocking the door and walking out of the bathroom.

Jensen is asleep on the couch. There’s some documentary on koala bears on mute on TV. Jared stands watching him for a long time before quietly putting on his boots and coat. As soon as he’s outside the door he flips his phone open.

“Chad? How do you feel about getting stinking drunk? Party? Where? Sounds good. Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

He hangs up and after a short hesitation shuts the phone off as well.

Chad meets him at the door with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a bag of weed in the other, flamboyantly inviting him in like he’s the host and not, Jared assumes, the party crasher. The apartment is already filled with scantily clad girls and loud boys, all on their way to drunken oblivion. Jared grins and grabs the tequila, taking a sip right from the bottle before realizing Chad’s probably drooled all over it. Oh what the heck. This is what college is about, right? Being stupid.

\----------

By ten Jensen starts to get worried. Around eleven he starts to panic. When midnight rolls around he’s hyperventilating, eyes darting to the windows where the rain is lashing the glass violently, getting up and heading for the door again and again, only to be stopped by his own suffocating phobia. Chris is on the phone, trying to call Jared for the fiftieth time and leaving angry and rude messages on Chad’s voicemail when he doesn’t pick up either. He’s checked the dorm, he’s checked the usual college bars. He’s even crashed a few parties, scaring stoned freshmen half to death with his glares.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Chris growls, throwing his phone on the table. “Fucking _asshole_.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Sophia tries, jumping when Jensen slams his fists into the door in frustration then starts pummeling and kicking it, his heart going into overdrive as the room starts to blur. Suddenly Chris is there, pulling him away and across the room until he can push him down on the couch.

“Okay, you have to calm down. Jensen, listen to me. Stop it. Nothing’s happened to him, okay? He’s probably out somewhere, getting drunk with that asshole friend of his.”

Jensen shakes his head. What if he’s not? What if he’s been in an accident? Or... worse? Oh God. Oh God.

“Jesus! Breathe. C’mon, Jensen, you gotta–”

“What’s going on?”

Jensen’s head snaps up. Jared is standing – well, more slouching – against the door, soaked wet from the rain, his cheeks flushed red, and his eyes glassy. He blinks as they all stare at him, a frown of confusion folding his forehead. “What?”

Jensen is up from the couch in a flash, running across the room and throwing his arms around Jared’s neck, crushing him to his chest. Oh thank God, Jared’s all right. He’s all right. He’s... stinking drunk and smells of perfume.

Jensen jerks away, suddenly so angry the whole room seems to go red. He slams his hands into Jared’s chest, so he stumbles backwards and then just keeps pushing and punching, ignoring Jared’s surprised yells of pain, until he’s out in the hall where Jensen finishes with a swing of his fist, right in Jared’s face. Jared hits the opposite wall and slinks down it with a stunned expression.

Jensen tries to yell at him but it’s no good and in the end he does the only thing he can do, slams the door in Jared’s face. Then he runs into the bathroom, locks the door behind him and turns on the shower. He sinks to the bottom of the stall in all his clothes, hides his face in his knees and cries.

\-------------

“It was just a party,” Jared mutters for the fifth time. His face really hurts and his head is kinda spinning. “I didn’t even drink _that_ much.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” Chris snaps. He hands Jared a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. “Keep the pressure on if you want to see out of that eye tomorrow.”

Jared sighs but does as he’s told. The cool pressure helps sobering him up a little. “I should have called, I know. I just... I lost track of time.”

“Clearly.” Chris shakes his head. “Look, I don’t blame you for needing a breather, kid, but you can’t run off without telling Jensen where you’re going.”

Jared swallows. “It was five hours!” he argues lamely.

“A lot of shit can happen to a person in five hours,” Chris says, his voice hard. “And you can bet Jensen imagined every single one of them happening to you. He should know. Most of them happened to him.”

Jared flinches. “That’s not fair,” he mutters.

Chris throws him a glare. “Who cares about fair? It’s the fucking truth and you know it.”

He can’t really argue with that. They fall into uncomfortable silence, Jared pressing the icepack to his eye, Chris keeping his glare on the wall, occasionally glancing toward the bathroom where the shower is still running.

“This isn’t like you,” he finally says, voice strained. “I don’t mean the drinking. You’re eighteen, in college. Getting drunk is part of the whole fucking experience. But you’re not an asshole, Jared, so why are you acting like one?”

Jared blinks, the lump in his throat suddenly growing twice its size. “I...” he tries but his voice cracks, and just like that his head is in his hands, and he’s crying, his shoulders shaking and breath coming in uneven heaves.

“Hey, hey, Jared. I didn’t mean... Kid, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed closed. There’s a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and then he’s pulled into a hug, Chris’s arms wrapping around him, holding him tight.

“It’s alright. Whatever it is we’ll figure it out. Jared? Jared, listen to me. You’re not alone, okay?” Chris’s voice is quiet, his fingers running through Jared’s hair, soothing him like a child. Practiced moves from years of experience of dealing with a broken ten-year-old. “Just tell me what it is. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jared sobs, sucking snot up his nose and beating at the tears with his closed fist. “I... I called home,” he finally hiccups.

Chris goes absolutely still. “And?”

“Mo-mom answered. I told her I missed her. And, and, she hung up on me.”

Chris sighs. He pulls Jared even closer, shaking his head in clear exasperation. “I’m so sorry, kid. They don’t deserve you.”

“I just... wanted to talk to her. To my mom,” he sobs. “She’s my mama and she just...” He breaks down again, cradling his head in his arms. “Why?”

“Because they’re scared,” Chris says quietly. “And confused. They thought they knew everything, that they had it all figured out and then you go and mess it all up.” He smiles dryly when Jared looks up at him. “The son they love being the thing they hate? I bet that’s fucking with their heads big time. You never know, they might even see the light.” At Jared’s doubtful look, Chris shrugs. “Okay, probably not, but I bet they’re not sleeping any easier than you are. And whatever makes people _think_? That’s a good thing. Makes them question and maybe try to see things from a different perspective. Whatever comes out of this, you did that.”

Jared doesn’t really feel any pride in being his parents’ potential source of enlightenment. At the moment he’s too tired and drunk to really feel much of anything except the need to crawl into bed with Jensen. Thinking of Jensen has him hitching his breath all over again. “You think he’s changed his mind? About... about me moving in?”

Chris looks at him thoughtful. “Are you having doubts?” he asks instead of answering.

Jared swallows. “Maybe,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “I have no idea what I’m doing. With school or Jensen or, or _anything_.”

Chris studies him for a moment then stands up and walks into the kitchen, returning with a big glass of water. “Spill.”

Jared takes a big gulp and sighs. He has no idea where to start. “I’m being stupid.”

Chris shakes his head. “Keeping things to yourself, that’s stupid. Not asking for help, that’s stupid. Talking, now that’s smart. So tell me what’s going on.”

Jared bites his lip. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he repeats. “I can’t... You were right. I don’t know anything about being independent. Paying rent, keep up with the bills, cooking. I’m no good at any of that stuff. And this place... I can’t afford this, man. I can’t... And Jensen,” he rushes on when Chris makes as if to argue, “I love him, I do. But it messes me up inside, what was done to him. Just really screws with my head. Those kids at the Bean... I look at them and I keep seeing these, these horrible… _things_.” He shudders. “And I have these dreams where I... I’m with Jensen except he’s little and I’m... I’m...” He hides his face in his hands. “He’s screaming and crying and I just... I take him anyway.” He shudders. “I feel so fucking sick. What if that’s what I’m really like? What if I’m one of _them_? What if my parents are right, and I’m–”

“Jared, stop,” Chris snaps. “Stop it. You’re not. Okay? You’re not.”

“How can you know that?” he sobs.

“Because I’ve been there, okay? You think in all these years of knowing Jensen and dealing with his shit I’ve never had a nightmare like that? Not where I was fucking him but beating the shit out of that little kid, yeah. And it made me feel like the worst monster in the world. But, I mean hell, sometimes he’s such an ass I’m itching to beat some sense into him. That’s all it is, my subconscious giving in and letting him have it, because _I_ won’t.”

Jared sniffles. “But you don’t dream you’re...”

“No, but then again I’m not the one who wants to fuck him.” He sighs when Jared flinches. “Jared, I’m not stupid. I know what happened between you two. Really wish I didn’t but I do. And shit, I can’t even imagine what that must have been like, suddenly having a terrified, crying kid in your bed. But that’s not on you, okay? That’s something Jensen has to figure out. And not by using you as a blow-up doll to experiment on.”

Jared shakes his head, lips pressed together. “We haven’t... Not since before I got sick.”

Chris raises one eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“Just, you know, handjobs and stuff. Not...” He makes a hand movement that has Chris cringing.

“Okay, okay, I get the picture.” It’s hard to see which one of them is more embarrassed.

“I’m not really the best person to... Maybe you can have a couples session with Dr. Ferris to, to talk about... that.” Chris clears his throat. “As for the other stuff... Don’t worry so much, Jared. No one knows how to be an adult until they have to be one, okay? And people still manage, somehow. The bills are taken care of until next month, and when they’re due, I’ll walk you through it. As for the rent...”

His eyes shift to the bathroom, where the shower is still running. “Okay, between you and me? We don’t pay any. Me and my sister inherited this place from our uncle and she’s got her own place down in Austin so... Basically it’s mine.”

Jared stares at him. “What?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Chris mutters, clearly embarrassed. “Only reason I haven’t told Jensen is because it’s the only fucking thing he ever thanks me for. So there. Call me a jerk, I don’t care, a guy’s gotta have something. I’ve been hauling his ass around for ten fucking years and he just...” Chris shakes his head. “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Thing is, there’s no rent. One thing less to worry about.”

Jared blinks. “But... you’re moving out. Of your own apartment? Are you... That’s crazy! We can’t let you do that.”

Chris glares at him. “You can and you will. Besides...” He coughs. “I’m not moving far. Just, you know, a few blocks over. Sophia has a spare room and she said, you know, that I could, you know...”

The blush is so adorable Jared can’t help grinning. “Dude, you just started going out like two months ago.”

“Fuck you. It’s not like that,” Chris hisses, face red. “It’s a spare room. I’m not gonna... Just because...” He looks away. “So, okay, maybe we’ll sometimes... Oh shut up, it’s none of your business.”

Jared snorts a laugh but it’s abruptly cut off when they hear the bathroom door opening. They’d been so immerged in their conversation they didn’t even notice the water turning off. Both of them look up to see Jensen coming out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He blatantly ignores the pair of them as he walks over to his dresser and starts rummaging for clothes.

Chris gives Jared an encouraging smile. “I’ll be at Sophia’s,” he says and stands up. “Call me if you need me.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “And Jared? Grovel first _then_ explain. You were a prick and you know it.”

Jared swallows and nods. Chris gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder then lets himself out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Jared sits still, watching as Jensen gets dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. At least he’s not planning on leaving, not now anyway. Jared glances out the window at the ongoing storm and cringes. Not that he could even if he wanted to.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks quietly. He’s starting to feel slightly sick. Stupid tequila.

Jensen doesn’t answer. His hair is still dripping wet, darkening the grey t-shirt’s back. He walks over to his easel, not sparing Jared a glance, and starts sorting through his brushes.

“I wanna stay,” Jared continues, “but if you want to be alone I’ll leave. And if...” He swallows. “If you’d rather I didn’t come back...”

He stops, unable to finish the sentence. Jensen has gone absolutely still.

“Jensen... I’m so sorry. I got drunk and forgot the time but I never meant... I never meant to scare you. I was just...” Jensen’s shoulders stiffen and Jared abruptly stops. “I’m a fucking asshole,” he says instead, breath hitching. “I’m sorry.” He stands up and walks slowly over, his equilibrium threatening to overturn at every step. “Please. Will you... will you please just look at me?”

He holds his breath, gazing at Jensen’s turned back. At the shoulders as they slump and Jensen’s hands drop to his side. Sucks in air through his nose as Jensen slowly turns around and looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes, his nose pink.

“Jensen...” he starts but Jensen raises his hand, cutting him off. They stand like that for a long time, gazing at each other. Jared doesn’t dare move, not even when he feels the tickle of a tear running down his nose. Jensen’s face is unreadable, as blank as the canvas in front of him. When he finally moves Jared can’t help flinching but instead of a slap to the face he gets Jensen’s thumb, wiping the tear away before his hand falls back to his side.

Jared’s breath hitches. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen opens his mouth. Grimaces when nothing comes out. He points at his own chest and curls his fingers into a tight fist, his pained gaze fixed on Jared.

Jared swallows. “I know. I didn’t think. I’m a stupid fuck.”

Jensen shakes his head. The fury is gone from his eyes and he just looks confused and hurt which is so much worse. He points at Jared then cups a hand in front of his chest before fixing his gaze again on Jared, eyebrows slightly raised. It takes Jared a moment to get it.

“No! Are you kidding me? I’d never do that. Plus gay, remember? I’ve no interest in girls. Why would you think that?”

Jensen scrunches up his nose, moving his fingers underneath it like waves. Jared frowns. What? Jensen swats at his shirt, glaring, and repeats the gesture. Jared lifts his shirt and smells it. Oh. Oh!

“I helped a drunk girl into a cab. She was really clingy. But that’s all, I swear. I didn’t touch her, not like that. I didn’t touch anyone. I don’t want to touch anyone. Just you. You’re the only one I want. Ever.” He sniffles, wiping at his face. Okay, now he _really_ feels sick. He swallows, swaying slightly on his feet. Waits.

Jensen gazes at him a while longer but then he looks away and nods, biting his lip. Jared moves to kiss him but Jensen pushes him away, grimacing. He points toward the bathroom, looking irritated and disgusted. Jared cringes, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he must smell. “I’ll be quick,” he says and backs away, smiling hesitantly. Jensen won’t look at him, but at least he’s not being thrown out. That must mean something, right?

Once in the bathroom Jared strips in a hurry and puts his dirty clothes into the hamper. He shoves aside the shower curtain to turn on the water and freezes. Jensen’s clothes lie turned inside out at the bottom of the shower, like shed skin, soaked wet. Jared swallows the guilt and wrings the clothes as dry as he can before hanging them up on the small rack. There’s no hot water left and he stands shivering under the cold spray, rubbing himself with soap to get the stink off. By the time he steps out his skin is turning blue but on the bright side, he’s almost sober.

Jensen is already in bed, eyes closed. Jared crawls under the covers but doesn’t dare get too close, both because Jensen is probably still awake and pissed at him but mostly because shocking Jensen by wrapping ice-cold arms around him is not likely to earn him any points.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Jensen ignores him. Jared sighs and closes his eyes as well. He’s asleep by the time Jensen turns around and is therefore unaware of being watched by thoughtful eyes until the early morning hours.

\------------

Jensen isn’t really deceiving anyone, he’s just... making things easier for them. Not that he really thinks Jared would say no but... well, you never know. He casually suggests they stop and buy coffee on the way over and then points out that if Jared is just gonna be reading for class he can just as well do that in the waiting room. When Jensen’s name is called he gives Jared a kiss and goes in, as usual closing the door behind him. But before Sam can greet him he blurts out, “Jared needs help.”

She raises her eyebrow, surprised. “Okay. What kind of help?”

“Your help. You need to talk to him. He’s...” He stops, not sure how to explain it. “Cracking.”

She frowns, picking up one of the folders and flipping through it before looking up at him in question. He doesn’t know what she wants him to say. What he _can_ say. “Please.” He coughs, grimaces. Fuck. Does his best impression of Jared’s puppy eyes instead. After a brief hesitation she nods.

“Okay, I’ll ask Sarah to look if there’s a free slot–”

Jensen shakes his head and opens the door. Jared looks up from his book and Jensen waves him impatiently over.

“What?” Jared says as he stands up, looking bewildered, at the same time as Jensen hears Sam say, “Jensen,” behind him, sounding not too pleased. Before she can interfere he grabs Jared’s hand and pulls him into the room, closing the door behind them and turning to Sam, eyes pleading.

She hesitates only a moment before standing up, her hand outstretched. “Hello, Jared. I’m Sam.”

Jared glances at Jensen, clearly wondering what he’s up to. “Jared,” he says, giving her a polite smile as they shake hands. “Nice to meet you. Uh... did you want to talk to me?”

Jensen pretends not to notice the reproaching look Sam sends him. Thankfully Sam seems to decide her loyalty lies with him rather than Jared and with a patient smile gestures them to sit down.

“I thought it was time we met,” she says and takes a seat opposite. “Since Jensen has told me so much about you.”

“Okay,” Jared says hesitantly. He looks uncomfortable where he sits on the couch so Jensen takes his hand and squeezes it, giving him an encouraging smile. “Is this like a couple’s session?”

She shrugs. “Can be. Or, if you want, it can be just you and me. I’m sure Jensen won’t mind,” she adds, sending him a pointed look.

Jensen just smiles and gives Jared’s hand an encouraging pat. If anything Jared looks even more awkward. “But you’re Jensen’s therapist.”

She smiles. “And you’re his boyfriend. Soon to be roommate as well, I hear.”

Jared smiles back but Jensen notices it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Living together, that’s a big step. Very grown-up.”

Jared shrugs. “I guess.” He fidgets in his seat, looking around the room with a slightly nervous expression. “Nice setup you’ve got here.”

He inclines his head toward the art section of the room and Jensen grabs the opportunity to jump up and walk over to one of the easels. ‘Go on,’ he gestures. ‘Don’t mind me.’

Jared stares at him incredulous, like he just can’t believe Jensen is leaving him, all on his own.

“There he goes again,” Sam says with a smile. “Not that I have to tell you. So, Jared, tell me a little about yourself.”

Jensen makes sure to keep his eyes on the easel while his ears try to hone in on their conversation. His hands are moving pretty much on their own accord, drawing shapes and shadows he’s not even aware of, seeing as he’s too busy eavesdropping. Jared starts slowly at first but after a while he loosens up and soon he’s talking freely about his first weeks at school and meeting Jensen. It’s nothing Jensen hasn’t heard before so he zones it out for the time being, his focus shifting to the drawing that’s slowly emerging in front of him. It’s of Jared, no surprise there, asleep in their bed. Jensen nibbles at his lip, frowning, and then his hands start to really work, quickly but surely. He loses track of time and place and completely forgets about Jared being in the room until he’s suddenly there, his hand on Jensen’s arm, pulling him gently but surely out of his headspace.

“You okay?” he asks as Jensen fumbles to get his mind back into the here and now. He suddenly remembers what they came for and takes a sharp look at Jared. The nervous awkwardness that followed him into the room is gone, replaced by a calmer if not quite content look. Jared is smiling softly, but there’s a thoughtful look in his eyes that Jensen hopes is a positive sign. Instead of answering he turns the question on Jared, asking, “Are you?”

Jared nods. “I’m good. And, apparently, naked.”

Jensen blinks. What?

Jared raises his eyebrows and Jensen looks over at the drawing in front of him. Oh.

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/234777/original.jpg)

“So, am I to assume there’s a collection of nude pictures of me hidden somewhere in this office?” Jared asks, cheeks pink but his voice is strained with suppressed laughter.

Jensen can’t help it, he blushes and looks away. Jared’s eyes widen. “No! Really? Oh my god. You _pervert_. Both of you,” he admonishes, pointing a finger at Sam, who laughs and raises her hands in defense.

“They’re all very tasteful,” she promises. When Jared glares at her the smile turns soft, and she adds, “You occupy quite a large part of his mind.”

That shuts him up. Jensen grins and risks giving her a thumb up behind Jared’s back, but she only narrows her eyes at him, a silent promise that they’ll talk about his little stunt later. Yes, yes, whatever. If this helps Jared feel better it’s worth Sam being pissed at him.

 

 

“She had no idea you were bringing me in, did she?” Jared asks once they’re in the truck. Jensen looks at him with fake innocence, eyes wide. “Oh don’t give me that. She seems to be a good therapist but she can’t act for shit. It’s okay, I just wish you’d told me. I would have come.”

Jensen shrugs and sends him a small smile, then clears his throat. “So how was it?” he asks, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

Jared glances at him then shakes his head. “You really do go to another world when you’re working, don’t you? It was fine. Good. It was good. I got to vent and sob like a little girl and she gave me some advice on how to cope with anxiety and stuff.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t really matter. It makes Jensen’s heart hurt. “But she can’t take me on, you know that. Not like she does with you. She’s a specialist, and a damn expensive one. My problems are more mainstream. Ordinary.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. “The school has a counselor. I hear he’s good. I think maybe I should go see him.”

Jensen lays his hand on Jared’s knee and squeezes. “Okay,” he says, his voice even rougher than usual. “But if you need... Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure that out.”

Jared shoots him a tired smile, but he doesn’t argue so that’s good.

They drive home in silence.


	16. Chapter 16

__ March 2011

He likes doing patterns in the milk foam when people order lattes. A flower, a lion’s mane, Phoenix rising from the flames. It’s not really that hard but people ooh and aah like it’s the most amazing thing ever. He makes fish and kittens and butterflies. A frog and a bear. An annoying jerk gets a penis with the word dick underneath. Chris totally saved him for being beaten up for that one. It was still worth it for the look on the guy’s face.

He does a swan for a girl he remembers from art school. She keeps coming back, asking for a different design every time, smiling brightly when he does them without question. It’s not until Chris points out to him that she’s flirting that it starts to annoy him. After a few more, now obvious, incidents of heavy flirting, he gives her a plain latte, not even bothering with the traditional leaf. A couple of more times and she finally gets the point. She still comes by every now and then but she always buys herbal tea now.

\------------

Present day

Jared hadn’t exactly lied. He did cry, but it was silent and mostly dry. Possibly a few tears. Definitely no snot.

It had nothing to do with any misguided ideas of masculinity, he just hadn’t wanted to alarm Jensen and so bit it back as much as he could. However immersed in his work Jensen seemed to be, hearing Jared cry probably would have snapped him out of it.

Plus, some things are better kept private. Like his nightmares where he’s abusing Jensen, that’s not something he would ever get into with Jensen in the room. He’s not sure he would have mentioned it even if it had been just the two of them. Despite what Chris says those kind of dreams can’t be normal. And what if she’d felt compelled to tell Jensen, out of fear for his safety? It’s not like she actually knows Jared, or knows him well enough to know he would never ever do anything like that. Never. Never. Never! He repeats it to himself like a mantra because he has to believe it. He is good, and decent and _not_ a sick pervert. He’s not a freak. He’s not an abomination. He’s not.

Jared takes a deep breath and sips his coffee, hand shaking. Stop it. Stop dwelling on that shit. Stop.

It had been good. Talking to her. She hadn’t said much, but she’d listened and she hadn’t judged, and the thoughts and advice she did come up with, once he’d poured his heart out had been exactly what he needed to hear. She thought it would do him good to have someone to talk to. She didn’t think he was ‘fucked up beyond repair’ (she repeated his own words with a small smile, that for some reason made him want to cry with relief) but he did have a lot to deal with, and there was no reason he should do it alone.

“I think you already know in your heart what is right, Jared, and what is wrong. And you know, rejecting your parents’ beliefs, doesn’t mean you’re rejecting them. It doesn’t even mean you’re rejecting God, just that you don’t agree with their version of him. Maybe you need to find your own God. Maybe you need to make peace with God in general. Or maybe you find that you don’t need religion after all. It’s okay to take your time figuring these things out. That church was a part of your life for so long, it’s normal to feel lost without it. Even if it made you feel miserable.”

He never really thought of it like that. He’d felt so relieved to be free from his parents’ frankly insane religious fanaticism, that he hadn’t directed any thoughts to what his own relationship with God was now. He’d lived in fear of God for so long it’s weird to think of him as a source of comfort. He actually envies those that don’t believe. It’s not really an option for him, the existence of God is such a big part of his idea of the world that taking it out would leave too big of a hole for Jared to fill.

That doesn’t mean he’s a Creationist, or believes the Bible to be God’s word. He’s pretty much ready to dismiss most of it as badly written fiction, to be honest. But he can’t dismiss the idea of a God, somewhere. Not a person or even an entity but maybe just a force, like positive energy made of all the goodness in the world. Of people’s kindness, and children’s innocence, and the beauty of art and music and nature. Which sounds nothing like the God his parents believe in who frankly is a self-righteous, judgmental jerk, who’d rather see his people suffer than be happy.

So where does that leave him? He doesn’t really know. Maybe he should found his own church. Jared snorts. Now that would definitely make Jensen think he’s gone off the deep end.

“What’s so funny?”

The words are clear, the voice almost at normal level, if a bit hoarse. Jared looks up to find Jensen smiling down at him, one eyebrow cocked in question. It’s amazing how far he’s come from the day they met. Even if Jared’s part in that is only a small one, he still feels oddly proud of it.

Jared shakes his head, smiling back, if a little wryly. “Nothing. Just... life. God. The universe. It’s funny. Life’s a laugh, and death’s a joke and all that.” He huffs a laugh.

Jensen frowns. “Think you’ve had enough,” he says and swipes the coffee cup from Jared’s still shaking hands before gesturing for him to wait.

Jared sits back, drumming his fingers on the table. He does feel rather wired after downing three cups of coffee in the last two hours. Maybe he should switch to tea.

“C’mon,” Jensen says when he returns, bundled up in his coat, hat and gloves. “Home.”

Jared blinks. “I thought you were working ‘til five.”

Jensen shrugs. “Business is slow.”

Jared looks over where Chris is leaning on the counter, flipping through a magazine. Apart from the three of them there’s just an elderly couple in the booth in the corner, sipping coffee and reading the papers, and a sleeping student at a table by the window, drooling on his books. Outside the wind is howling, sending chills down Jared’s spine at the mere thought of leaving the warm coffeehouse.

“We’re gonna fucking freeze to death,” he grumbles but gets up anyway, putting on his coat, and hat, and gloves and scarf, wrapping it two times around his neck in feeble hope that it will keep the wind from blowing down his collar.

“I’ll warm you up when we get home,” Jensen promises, his tone making Jared shiver again but for completely different reasons. He takes Jensen’s offered hand and tries not to get his hopes up too high, when Jensen squeezes it with a grin.

It feels like they’re getting back on track, but it’s a slow process. Their make-out sessions have been getting more and more heated, but they don't go beyond blowjobs, usually with Jensen blowing him, not the other way around. And even if Jared keeps telling himself it’s fine, that he’s happy with what he’s got, and what they do, it feels like ages since they had actual sex, and he just... he misses it. He misses the intimacy and the closeness, and the amazing realization that someone actually wants _him_ that way. That this is happening, that Jensen is _in_ him, and that Jared’s the only one who Jensen has ever done that too. He assumes.

No, he’s sure. Everything else he’s afraid might trigger Jensen, might remind him of other times his brain might not remember, but his body obviously does. But this one thing Jared is certain belongs only to the two of them. Which is why he hates the idea of it becoming contaminated like the rest. As eager as Jensen had been for them to have sex at the beginning of their relationship, after the kid surfaced he was hesitant to try anything. And when he’d finally overcome that fear, Jared of course had spooked him again by telling him about the kid freaking out. So yes, it’s Jared’s own damn fault not keeping that to himself, but, still, he can’t help missing the hunger in Jensen’s eyes from their first weeks of going out, wondering if it will ever come back.

The cold steals the breath from his lungs the minute they step outside, and, even if they run most of the way, by the time they close the apartment door behind them his nose is numb, and his cheeks feel raw with the cold. Jensen’s cheeks are blooming as well, rosy red like a teenager’s, his chest heaving as he takes off his coat and kicks off his boots. He looks up to find Jared watching him and laughs, reaching up to ruffle Jared’s hair that’s a mess from the woolen hat.

“Come on,” he says and takes Jared’s hand leading him across the room and to the bed. “Strip.”

He complies, getting quickly rid off his clothes then sliding under the covers, shivering. Jensen crawls in beside him, puts an arm around his waist and pulls him closer. Their feet and legs are cold – arms, hands and faces as well – but their chests are warm and slightly sweaty and still heaving after their run. They lie facing each other, cold noses touching. Jensen is smiling, and Jared can feel the corners of his own lips turn up in response even if he still feels a bit grumpy and a little unsure, because he doesn’t know if ‘warm up’ meant cuddling or making out or maybe something more. He jumps when Jensen’s cold fingers land on his warm waist, and Jensen chuckles, sliding his hand over the curve of his hip and laying it on one cold butt cheek. Then he tilts his head and kisses Jared softly on the lips. His breath is warm and Jared parts his lips, breathing it in. They kiss for a while, slow and easy, while heat slowly creeps back into their limbs. Jared runs his fingers up Jensen’s sweaty neck then cups one cold ear in his palm, rubbing their noses together and laughing softly when Jensen hums and squeezes his butt in response.

It gets more heated after that, hands running over skin, mouths tasting and sucking, breaths shortening. Jared keeps to the basics, not wanting to spook Jensen in any way, his touches light, his hands careful not to wander where they might not be welcome. That’s why it takes him a moment to realize Jensen is scooting up on the bed while gently trying to push Jared down. He pulls back, catching Jensen’s heated gaze and raises his eyebrows in question. Jensen bites his lip and nods, the want in his eyes so obvious, heat spikes in Jared’s belly. He licks his lips then moves down, shivering when the duvet slides off them and onto the floor, exposing them to the still but slightly chilly air of the apartment. He peppers kisses down Jensen’s stomach as he goes, feeling it flutter with fearful anticipation. It’s always like that when they do this, like Jensen is battling enjoying the moment and fearing what it might trigger. Jared does his best to ignore his own worry, his reflexes are pretty sharp, but that doesn’t mean he’d necessarily be quick enough to avoid a kick to the face.

He settles between Jensen’s legs, elbows on the inside so Jensen won’t feel trapped. He starts slowly, licking up and around then down again, getting Jensen’s dick all wet before he slides it into his mouth, as far as he can manage. He can feel Jensen trembling, hears him suck in his breath as he’s swallowed down Jared’s throat, but he also feels the thighs relax and the stomach muscles let go as Jensen allows the pleasure to overcome his fear. After a while one hand comes to rest on Jared’s head, fingers running through his hair then grabbing hold as Jared doubles his efforts and puts every single trick he’s learned from Jensen to the test. His own dick is hard where it’s pressing into the mattress, the freshly laundered cotton sheets already slick with precome. When Jensen bends his knees and lifts his ass Jared slides his hands underneath it without thinking, cupping it in his palms. But Jensen keeps pushing upward, grunting, frustrated before changing tactics as he pulls his knees up, and to his chest. Jared freezes, his mouth still full of cock.

“Please,” Jensen says hoarsely, his voice shaking.

Jared raises his head, Jensen’s dick slipping from his mouth. His heart is racing in his chest. He half wants to say no, partly because he can still feel the last kick that almost broke his nose but mostly because the mere thought of the kid returning is terrifying and sickening. But Jensen is looking down at him, eyes pleading, face and chest flushed red and...

Dammit, if he’s feeling brave enough to try again then Jared’s not gonna be a coward and deny him.

“My finger or, or my tongue?” he asks instead, his voice just as wrecked.

Jensen hitches his breath, eyes closing. “To-tongue,” he whispers. “Then, maybe, if...”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Just...” He swallows. “If you...”

“I know,” Jensen says quickly. “But...” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before opening his eyes again and meeting Jared’s gaze. “He’s dead.”

Jared nods, lump in his throat. “Yeah, he is.”

“I can’t hear him.” He taps his head. “Not since... And when we...” He waves his hand, indicating what they’re doing. “It’s me, not-not the kid. _My_ fear.” He looks slightly frustrated, like he doesn’t expect Jared to make sense of his cut-off sentences.

Jared nods again, He thinks he understands. He’s also rather alarmed. He had no idea Jensen had been hearing voices. Well, _a_ voice. _The_ voice. It’s worrying. And the idea that Jensen has been battling with the kid’s fear every time they’ve done anything is enough to make him want to run away, right now. He doesn’t let on to his thoughts though, just gives Jensen a reassuring smile and squeezes the firm flesh in his hands.

“Just let me know, okay? Billy, don’t be a buttsex hero, and all that.”

Jensen snorts a surprised laugh, and the atmosphere feels instantly less tense. He lays back with a grin and closes his eyes, waving his hand in a superior ‘get on with it’ gesture.

“Bossy bottom,” Jared mutters and smiles when Jensen laughs again, making his dick smack his stomach. He takes a moment, trying to figure out the best way to do this, then takes Jensen’s feet by the ankles and puts them on his shoulders before sliding his hands back under Jensen’s ass and lifting him up, spreading the cheeks gently with his thumbs. It would be easier to do this with Jensen facing down but he knows that’s not on the menu. He’ll just have to work his way around it.

“A little help, maybe?” he complains, and Jensen laughs again, nervously, before sliding his legs up on Jared’s shoulders and lifting his butt as high as he can. Okay, now he should be able to just...

“Ungh!”

It’s not exactly easy with Jensen’s knees crushing Jared’s head, while his ass is trying to push itself deeper onto Jared’s tongue, but it’s all worth it for the sounds Jensen keeps making. Whimpers, and moans, and pleadings and Jared’s name, hoarsely whispered over and over again. It’s so different from last time when Jared tried this, and all he had to go on were the signals from Jensen’s body, which didn’t prove that reliable. He can feel the tight muscle slowly relaxing and softening around his tongue as he licks Jensen open, deeper and deeper until he just can’t reach any further.

“More,” Jensen suddenly gasps. “Please.”

Jared doesn’t hesitate but slides a finger into his mouth, making it as wet as he can, then pushes it slowly in alongside his tongue. He can feel Jensen tensing but only for a moment, before he’s pushing back with a drawn out moan. Christ! It’s so damn tight, and hot and not really wet enough for him to go this deep, but Jensen keeps pushing, practically sucking him in and… God, they’re really doing this!

He fumbles for the bedside table with his free hand, blindly opening the drawer and feeling for the tube of lubrication. There it is. Jensen is still making sounds that Jared has never heard from him before, moans deep enough to vibrate down to his gut and gasps that keep reaching higher and higher pitches.

“More?” Jared asks, and Jensen frantically nods his head.

Jared pulls out his finger, hitching his breath, when Jensen whimpers and tries to follow. Fuck, he’s gonna come before Jensen does if he keeps making these sounds. “Hold on, I’m just gonna...”

His fingers tremble as he pops the tube open and squeezes a generous amount on his fingers, slicking them up and then adding more to smear around the entrance. Jensen hisses when the cool gel touches his heated skin, and Jared laughs, feeling lightheaded and terrified.

“Okay?” he asks as he pushes lightly with both fingers at the swollen rim, and Jensen nods, teeth pressing down on his lower lip. “You sure?” Jared adds, watching his fingers slowly but surely sink in.

“Yes!” Jensen hisses. “Oh, oh... What...?”

“Two. Just two.” He waits until he’s in up to his knuckles then slightly twists his hand.

“Fuck!”

“No, still just my fingers,” Jared says with a laugh, and Jensen makes a half-hearted attempt to slug him. “Relax. Just breathe and...” He shuts up when Jensen lifts his hips and slams them down again, driving the fingers even deeper, then shoots up just as fast, shouting.

“Okay,” Jared gulps. “Guess we found your prostate.”

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please...” Jensen gasps, eyes squeezed shut, and fists wringing the sheets.

“Yeah, yeah.” There. And there. Oh wow. Now, if he just... He grabs Jensen’s bouncing dick and stuffs it into his mouth, sucking and licking for all he’s worth. That does it.

Jensen yells, loud enough that they can probably hear it all the way down at The Black Bean, and comes down Jared’s throat, his ass squeezing Jared’s fingers so tight he’s surprised they don’t break. He keeps on, sucking Jensen’s dick and fucking his ass with his fingers until the shouts turn into almost painful whimpers, and Jensen is twisting his body to get away as it gets to be too much. Jared carefully pulls his fingers out and lays his head on Jensen’s thigh, heaving for breath.

It’s silent for a long time except for their heavy breathing, Jared’s slowing down while Jensen’s is getting quicker and more erratic. Jared closes his eyes and slides one hand up to cover Jensen’s heart. There’s a loud hitch in his breath, but then his inhalations get deeper, and his heart starts slowing down. Jared waits until everything is quiet before propping himself up on one elbow and offering Jensen a smile. “Good?”

Jensen smiles back, if a little shakily, then tugs at Jared until they’re leveled so they can kiss. Jared’s all set to ignore his own dick, lying thick and heavy on Jensen’s thigh, but Jensen’s fingers close around him, gripping him tight. He gasps, unable to hide just how close he is, but instead of bringing him to climax Jensen squeezes him at the base before letting go and rolling over.

Jared goes still. “Jen,” he says, wary.

Jensen shakes his head then reaches behind him and takes Jared’s cock in his hand, directing it between his thighs which are slippery with sweat and lube. “Here,” he says hoarsely.

Jared breathes out. “Yeah?” he asks, just to be sure. “Like this?” And he jerks his hips, pressing his cock into the tight fit between Jensen’s thighs.

Jensen nods, pushing back. They set a rhythm, Jared’s hand clutching Jensen’s hip, Jensen reaching behind him to hold on to Jared’s thigh. God, it’s so good, so close to what Jared imagines the real thing to be, and he can’t believe Jensen is letting him do this. He keeps watching for signs and listening for sounds that mean Jensen is in distress, but there’s just groaning and panting, and when he lets his hand slide down in front, he finds Jensen’s cock straining to rise, despite having been wrung dry only a few minutes ago.

“Jesus! Feels so good,” Jared gasps. “God, Jensen.”

Jensen turns his head and catches his lips in a lopsided kiss, and that’s it, he’s done. He fucks harder in between Jensen’s thighs, gasping into his mouth as the makeshift channel turns slippery and wet with his spilling, and then he finally collapses, arm slipping down to curl around Jensen’s waist as he pants into his neck.

What feels like hours later but is probably only minutes, he rises up on his elbow and looks over Jensen’s shoulder. “Was that okay?” he asks carefully, breathing out in relief when Jensen looks up with a sleepy smile. He makes a circling gesture then shoves his index finger into the fist of his other hand, raising one eyebrow in challenge. Next time?

Jared sucks in his breath. “Fuck. Yeah. If you... yeah. God.”

Jensen grins then closes his eyes and relaxes on the pillow. He’s asleep within minutes, come cooling and drying on his thighs, sweaty skin covered in goose bumps. Jared fishes for the duvet with his toes and pulls it over them, eyes already closing.

\------------

Jensen wakes up stinking of sweat and semen, in a hot cocoon of damp bedclothes and Jared’s octopus arms. His ass doesn’t really ache, but he’s definitely more aware of the area than he usually is. Jared is drooling on his shoulder, the mop of hair slightly suffocating over Jensen’s face. He lies staring up at the ceiling, forcing himself to keep still and not shove Jared off right away, so he can go shower. It’s dark outside, but one glance at his watch tells him it’s only a little past dinner time. He carefully lifts his head and looks around, and sure enough, there is Chris, sitting on the couch, the TV on mute, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. Jensen’s head falls back on the pillow, a hot blush spreading all the way down to his chest, prickling his skin like sunburn.

After a while he wriggles free from Jared’s embrace and slips out of bed. He pulls on jeans and a t-shirt that he finds on the floor before walking slowly over to join Chris on the couch, careful to keep as much distance between them as he can. A slight wrinkle of Chris’s nose has him cringing all over again. They sit in silence for a while, eyes set on penguins hobbling across the TV screen with David’s Attenborough’s head occasionally popping into the frame, like a white-haired gnome on happy pills.

Finally Chris clears his throat, shooting a quick glance Jensen’s way before his eyes return to the screen. “So,” he says and clears his throat again. “You okay?”

Jensen can feel a grin starting to spread and bites it quickly down. He nods, repeating it solemnly when Chris looks over. He watches Chris’s face go from embarrassed to concern in five seconds flat. “What’s wrong? There’s something wrong. Did he hurt you? Did he– I’m gonna kill him!”

Jensen grabs Chris’s arm just as he jumps up, assumingly to strangle a still sleeping Jared. “Chris,” he says, and when Chris looks back at him, face fuming with anger, he gives him the biggest leer ever. Chris freezes then jerks his arm free, face tomato-red.

“You asshole! I thought...” he hisses and throws himself back on the couch. “Fuck you!”

Jensen shifts on the couch and grimaces, shaking his head. “Give me a day,” he says with a longsuffering sigh.

If possible Chris’s face turns even redder. “Shut up. That’s... ugh. No.”

“Oh yeah,” Jensen says smugly then moans, “Yes, yes, yes!” making Chris cover his ears and groan, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

They settle down in silence again, Chris pressing his lips together in a scowl, and Jensen grinning. Just as he’s about to stand up and head into the bathroom Chris looks over and says hesitantly, “So did you... you know?”

It’s his turn to be awkward. He shrugs, averting his eyes, then shakes his head. “Not... No. Just...” He lifts his hand, wriggling two of his fingers. He smiles wryly. “Next time.”

Chris nods and gives him an encouraging grin. “It will be okay, I’m sure.”

He stands up, his stomach churning all of a sudden. “Shower.”

“Yes, please,” Chris sighs, sounding disgusted. “I’m amazed you can stand yourself, Stinky.”

He flips Chris the finger, but as he’s undressing and turning on the shower he can’t help thinking over Chris’s words. He does stink, and it’s the kind of smell that would normally have him heaving. Not that he’s complaining, throwing up at the smell of his own sex life would be rather inconvenient. But it makes him wonder what else is different. Can it really be that all he needed to do to exorcise the fucker was to point a gun at someone’s head? It sounds too easy to be true.

Okay, so his sex life is on the upturn, that’s true. He’d been terrified the whole time – well, most of it, towards the end he’d been too damn amazed to care about anything except Jared and his amazing fingers – but not of what Jared was doing, that had been fine. All his fears had been about the possible return of the kid, and of what that might do to _Jared_. In fact, he thinks, if they’d gone all the way, he would have been okay. Only reason he didn’t risk it was that if it _had_ gone wrong, it would have ruined a so far perfect moment. There would be time for “real sex” later. Hopefully not much later though.

And, he thinks, tilting his head up to let the water hit his face, there’s this. Snow and rain still scares him but it’s more a fear of the _fear_ , than fear of getting wet. Because he rather likes feeling warm water rush down his face now, hitting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, raining into the cave of his mouth when he opens it to catch water on his tongue. It’s an amazing feeling actually.

His speech is getting better as well. It comes and goes, usually disappearing when he gets upset or really needs it to work, of course. But Sam was right, the exercises do help. His voice is getting stronger and his sentences longer, which means he can finally express himself without sounding like a toddler. It’s not a steady forward progress, some days he wakes up just as mute as before, other days he can only manage a whisper. And several times a day his voice cuts off mid-speech for no apparent reason. It’s maddening, but anger and annoyance does nothing to help, so he swallows his frustration and waits impatiently for the day that he can scream at the top of his lunges whatever the hell he wants at whatever fucking time he wants. “Fuck you, Fuller,” is pretty high on that list.

He’s brought out of his musings by the bathroom door opening, and the familiar shadow of Jared casting upon the curtain.

“It’s just me,” Jared announces in a sleep-rough voice, ever considerate of Jensen’s jumpy nerves. Jensen smiles, the grin widening when a head of crazy hair peeks around the curtain, sleepy eyes squinting at him in concern that makes way for relief when he sees Jensen’s grin.

“You got room for one more?” he asks, sweeping tangled hair out of his eyes.

The shower stall hasn’t gotten any roomier since the last time they did this, but Jensen steps back anyway, inviting him in. Jared kicks off his underwear, the only clothes he’d been wearing, and steps in, a wall of sex-smelling skin and rippling muscles. He shoves his head under the stream, soaking his hair, then swipes it back from his face before ducking down for a kiss. They share each other’s bad breaths of stale coffee and dick, ticking off another item on Jensen’s list of things he’s stopped being as anal about.

“You feel okay?” Jared murmurs, hands slipping down to cup Jensen’s ass. His touches are still light, still careful, but they’re bolder, fingers going places he wouldn’t have dared only yesterday.

Jensen nods, clearing his throat when the words get stuck at the first try. “Fine,” he whispers. “Good.” He looks up, grins. “Never better.”

“Good,” Jared says with a wicked smile. “Because that was just the beginning. I’m planning to do that and so much more. Just you wait.”

Jensen’s answer is to drop to his knees and give Jared the best blowjob of his life.


	17. Chapter 17

_ August 2012 _

_It's an unusually slow afternoon after a ridiculously busy morning. Jensen stands silent behind the counter, not thinking of anything in particular while trying his best to ignore Sophia. She's talking to him, or rather_ at _him, saying something about it always being like this at the start of the school year. The freshmen are too stressed and overwhelmed by the whole newness of being in college to dare venture outside the main area yet. The more seasoned students, who feel their hard-earned money from various boring summer jobs is well spent on pricy coffee in the_ mornings _– since it keeps them awake – choose to fuel their afternoon celebrations of being reunited with old friends with beer and pot, rather than caffeine. It will even out, Sopha promises and smiles at Jensen, as if to say he shouldn't worry._

_Jensen gives her a disinterested look, wondering why she can't just shut up. Not like he asked or even showed the slightest interest in this or any of the other boring subjects she's been going on about for the last two hours since Chris took off. Mostly, he thinks, she talks to fill in his silence. Even after a year she still feels awkward being alone with him, he can tell. The endless prattle annoys him but she's his boss so there's not really much he can do about it. Except this: ignore her and hope she takes the hint. So far it's not working._

_Jensen's mind has pretty much blanked out, having first turned Sophia's voice into a more pleasant white noise, when there's a ping from the bell above the door. He sighs and blinks his eyes reluctantly into focus just as a tall, lean shadow steps in from the afternoon sun, duffle bag slung over its shoulder, map in hand._

\----------

Present day

Jensen’s family drives up for his birthday. Not something he'd expected or even wished for, but still their arrival gives him a feeling in his chest that until now he’d only associated with Chris and, to some extent, Sophia. Like maybe he wouldn’t mind if they stuck around for a while.

That only lasts for about ten minutes, then their expectations and high hopes start to get even more on his nerves than usual. It’s as if they’ve decided that now he’s proven himself to have feelings – as evidenced by the addition of a boyfriend – he should be back to his old self – whoever that person was – or at least behave like a normal human being. Meaning considerate, caring, happy. Talking.

His throat closes up the moment they step into the apartment. He shakes his father’s hand and gives his mother an obligatory kiss on the cheek, endures his sister’s insistent embrace and gives his brother a curt nod, the recent flashback from their youth still making him feel oddly angry, without really knowing why.

Jared is nervous, smiling too wide and laughing too loud at Jensen’s dad’s jokes that are usually at Jensen’s expense. God, he hates those. “Silence is golden,” how often has he heard that one? Or calling him a chatterbox every time they think he’s withdrawing or ignoring their conversation. Not to mention, “Keep those gestures PG-13, kiddo.” Ugh. He resists the urge to tell them to fuck off, using both middle fingers if necessary, and instead grits his teeth and smiles, fingernails digging into his palms.

Chris takes on the usual buffering role, deflecting any discussions that might lead to rows and sending Jensen glares and warning headshakes every time he’s not on his best behavior. Jensen can see Chris's anger simmering under the surface though, but oddly enough it doesn’t seem to be directed at him but his parents. He’s not sure what that is about, but his bet is on the details of his kidnapping that they'd eluded to tell Chris about. Seriously, Chris is angrier about _that_ than the fact that they didn’t tell _Jensen_? Christ. What is it with everyone thinking they are entitled to _his_ life? Fuck them.

They go out for dinner and his mother has the audacity to order his food (“He’ll have the chicken. Right, honey? He can’t, he can’t speak. I’m sorry.”), his dad tells Chris no, when he tries to order Jensen a beer (“Remember what dr. Soran said.”), Chris kicks Jensen’s leg under the table when he raises his fists in anger and Jared... Jared looks terrified as he stares at the menu, most likely because there’s no way he can even afford a side dish at this stuck-up place.

That’s it. It’s _his_ fucking birthday, and he’s not spending it like this. He shoves away from the table and stands up, grabbing Jared’s hand and giving him a look that offers no argument. They’re leaving.

“Jensen, what?”

His mother looks bewildered; his dad sighs, like it’s no more than he expected; his brother seems to be trying to burn a hole in the table cloth with his intense staring while his sister looks up from her tweeting or whatever it is she's doing on her phone, clearly clueless about what’s going on.

“Don’t be like that, son,” his dad says briskly, the smile infuriatingly condescending. “Sit down and have a nice meal with us.”

Jensen takes a deep breath. “This?” he whispers, his voice so hoarse he’d kill for the beer his dad just denied him. “Not nice. It’s _my_ birthday, and I’m spending it with Jared, because he’s the _only_ person in this room who actually cares what _I_ want.”

They all stare at him like he’s an alien, his mother covering her mouth with one hand, tears springing into her eyes. It takes him a second but then he gets it. Of course. He talked. _That_ they care about.

“Go home,” he says coldly and walks out, dragging a worried looking Jared behind him.

They walk, hand in hand, in silence. Jensen is still fuming but slowly his anger makes way for an unexplainable sadness. He feels stupidly disappointed. Guess they weren’t the only ones with high hopes. The truth is he _has_ come far, so _far_ , from when they last saw him, and he’d wanted them to see that, had wanted to shove it in their faces with a smug smile and maybe then, _finally_ , they would feel pride instead of pity. But it was like nothing had changed. To them he’s still that stupid mute kid from thirteen years ago. The kid who they had to shelter from the world, from the truth. From himself. It’s infuriating.

“You know they love you,” Jared says suddenly.

Jensen sighs. People keep telling him that, like it excuses everything. What the fuck does it matter that they love him if the only thing their precious love does, is make him more miserable?

“I mean, I get why you’re angry. They treat you like a child, and you’re not. It’s just...” Jared pauses and clears his throat like, for once, he’s the one who’s stumbling over his words. “They _love_ you. You know? And they’re trying. _They_ try.”

“I tried!” Jensen bristles. “I–“

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Jared says, his voice quiet.

Oh. Jensen glances up, taking in the sad look in Jared’s eyes and the way his Adam’s apple keeps bobbing as he swallows repeatedly. Jensen stops, turning around so they’re facing, then reaches up to cup Jared’s cheek and kisses him. Slow, sweet, lovingly. He steps back and gives Jared a small smile.

“C’mon,” he says and takes Jared’s hand again before walking back, in the direction they came from.

“What?” Jared asks confused as he quickens his step along with Jensen’s. “Where are we going?”

“Back.”

He doubts they’ve left yet. Chris is probably still trying to calm everyone, while his parents once again argue that they should take him home to Texas, because clearly he’s unstable and therefor unfit to be on his own.

“Okay,” Jared says, frowning. “Why?”

Jensen shrugs. “You’re right, they love me. So they’ll love you.”

If possible Jared looks even more confused. “I don’t...”

“You need a family,” Jensen clarifies. “And they’re all I have.”

Jared falls quiet at that, which is just as well, because Jensen can feel his throat tighten the closer they get to the restaurant. They’re just across the street when Jared pulls Jensen to a halt and then wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight. Only for a minute before he catches himself and starts to let go, but Jensen grabs hold and hugs him back even tighter. Jared hitches his breath. They stand there for a long time before reluctantly letting go. Jared tilts Jensen’s head up for a light kiss. “Thank you.”

Jensen smiles and pushes down the dread churning in his stomach. He can do this. He can. Just smile and nod and pretend everything is all right.

“You know, the kid wouldn’t be able to handle this,” Jared says and squeezes him even tighter. “And he definitely wouldn’t be doing this.”

He dips his head down, and again they’re kissing, but this time it’s different. This time it’s heat, and want and need, and for a moment Jensen forgets where they are, and why they’re there, and who could be watching. It’s just Jared and them and their shared heat in the cold spring breeze. When they finally pull apart they’re both flushed and panting.

“Let’s show them just how grown up you are,” Jared says with a grin, wrapping his arm around Jensen’s shoulders and steering him across the street and back into the restaurant.

The look on everyone’s faces as they return is priceless. His mother looks ready to cry – again! – his dad stands up quickly, hands hovering, like he doesn’t know whether to hug him or yell at him; and Chris stares, mouth open, before catching himself and straightening up, an easy smile plastered on his face.

“Have a nice walk?” he asks casually, like that’s all it ever was, and Jensen can’t help it, he snorts a laugh.

“Yeah.” He turns to his parents and gives them a tight smile. “We’re going for burger and beers. Not here. A place two blocks over. You coming?”

They stare at him, eyes blinking. Then Josh suddenly stands up. “Sounds good. Mom? Dad?”

“Yes,” his father says quickly. “Of course. Mac, put away that damn phone. It’s your brother’s birthday.”

She sighs as she pockets her phone but there’s a glint in her eye as she sends Jensen a wicked grin. “Yes, Dad.”

He turns to his mother and finds her still frozen, eyes huge and wet, hand once again covering her mouth.

Jensen fidgets, his mouth dry all of a sudden. He clears his throat, and it turns into a coughing fit. His dad reaches for him in alarm, but he gestures him to back off, reaching behind him for Jared instead. A glass of water appears before him, and he looks up to find his brother holding it out to him, eyes concerned but steady. “Here.”

Jensen takes it with a nod, drinking slowly and relishing the feeling of his sore throat cooling down and the muscles relaxing. “Thanks,” he says hoarsely once he’s done.

Josh gives him a small smile. “No problem.”

It’s the first conversation they’ve had, for as far as Jensen can remember.

“Oh Jensen,” his mother suddenly sobs, bringing his attention back. “My baby. You... Oh sweetie. Your voice.”

“Honey,” his father says, as Jensen frantically starts clearing his throat again. “Not now.” He turns to Jensen and gives him a small smile. “I’ll go pay for our drinks.” Then he adds in a low voice. “She’s just happy. Let her be. Please, son.”

Jensen waves it off, still coughing, but when his mother stands up and hugs him, wrapping her arms around him like she’s afraid he’ll lose his voice if she lets go, he doesn’t push her away, just breathes frantically through his nose and even pats her awkwardly on the back.

The burger place is the one he and Jared usually go to when they crave something cheap but tasty. The burgers are thick and juicy; the fries are done just right. The beer is cold, and the waiter never asks Jared for an ID. So what if the place itself looks a little run down, and the music is a little too loud? Not that they usually talk that much anyway.

Jensen’s mother stares at him like she’s watching a miracle in action when he orders his own food with a hoarse but clear voice; his father raises an eyebrow but sighs in defeat when Jensen adds beers to the order, both for him and Jared. Mac and Jared actually hit it off, now Jared’s in an environment where he can relax enough to be himself. Josh tells Jensen about his work at the hospital. He nods and offers a few comments, their talk stilted and awkward but at least it’s there. His parents hold hands under the table, watching the interaction with stars in their eyes. When dinner is over, and it’s time for them to go back to their hotel, they both hug Jared hard, looking at him like he’s their son’s heavenly savior. It would be embarrassing if Jared didn’t look so overwhelmingly happy.

That night, when he lies in bed, listening to Jared and Chris snore in tandem across the room, Jensen thinks of words like ‘son’ and ‘brother’ and ‘family’. And for the first time, since he was ten years old, they carry something other than the definition in the dictionary. Like a warm heavy feeling in his chest, like strings and bonds, like echoes from a time he can’t remember but can still feel, somehow. It’s not very pleasant, in fact he preferred it when he didn’t feel anything but contempt, but...

He looks at Jared’s sleeping face, the open, slack mouth, the dreaming eyes moving under closed eyelids, the wisp of hair that insists on draping over his face, waving like a curtain with every exhale of breath. And he thinks: if this makes Jared happy, if having a family, as close to his own as he can get, makes Jared happy, then Jensen is going to make sure he gets it.

\---------

As disastrous as Jensen’s family’s visit had started out, they end up having a pretty okay weekend. Sure, Jared can see why they get on Jensen’s nerves: they are overwhelmingly protective and seem to believe him incapable of caring or even _thinking_ for himself. Every word he utters brings tears to his mother’s eyes, every reaction they interpret as distress has them jumping in alarm. The only one who doesn’t treat him like a broken child is his sister, who blows off his tantrums with a roll of her eyes and repeatedly uses his muteness to her advantage, pretending not to understand his broken-off sentences or angry gestures. Jared would have thought she’d be the one to piss Jensen off the most, but even if he continually glares at her in anger or flips her off in frustration, Jared can detect a hint of pride and affection in Jensen’s eyes the minute she turns her back.

“They’ve always been like that,” Chris says when Jared asks him. “She was only two when it happened, so, to her, this is normal. She doesn’t remember how he was before, so she isn’t constantly comparing or waiting for him to change back. I think that makes all the difference.” He smiles, looking nostalgic for a moment. “She was such a prankster, always blaming him for everything she did, knowing he couldn’t tell on her. Once, on Josh’s twentieth birthday I think it was, Jensen managed to snap a shot of her writing _his_ name in the frosting on the cake with her finger. He used the picture to blackmail her for months until she stole it. Of course he’d already made plenty of copies so...”

He grins, and Jared laughs, looking over where Mac is talking constantly about everything and nothing to an increasingly annoyed Jensen, who is trying to paint. He keeps glaring at her and lifting his hand, gesturing at her to shut up and stop bothering him, but she pretends she doesn’t notice and chatters on, looking increasingly smug. Suddenly Jensen turns around and raises the brush, a determined look on his face. He manages one step forward before she looks up and realizes what's happening.

“Jensen, what are you... No! Get away from me!”

She jumps to her feet, shrieking as he chases her around the room, while their parents watch with resigned and rather wistful expressions from the couch. He finally catches her by the bathroom where he pins her against the door and turns her face into a canvas of blue swirls. She yells and shouts in protest before breaking down in giggles. Jensen steps back, looking smug and triumphant until he takes in his masterpiece and suddenly bursts out laughing.

His parents’ jaws practically drop on the floor. Jared hears Mrs. Ackles gasp, “Oh my God! Alan...” to which her husband quickly answers, “I know,” and grabs her hand, holding her back when she makes a move to stand. “Don’t. Just enjoy.”

Jared turns away, feeling awkward and intruding. And oddly proud. He did that. Him. If nothing else, at least he accomplished that.

“Hey, can we talk?”

He looks up to find Josh fidgeting beside him, eyes shifting to Jensen, who is still chuckling, and back to Jared.

Jared swallows and conjures a smile that he hopes looks confident. “Sure. I have to go pick up the pizza anyway. We can talk on the way.” He grabs the keys to the truck and pockets the money Chris sneaks into his hand. “Come on.”

He doesn’t know what to expect. The hurt-my-brother-and-I’ll-kill-you speech? Or something worse? It’s hard to get a reading on Jensen’s brother. Where his parents wear their hearts on their sleeves and Mac is open and friendly – if rather mischievous – Josh seems closed off, if not exactly hostile.

God, he hopes it’s not the gay thing. He’s had enough of that kind of crap to last him a lifetime.

“Look,” he says nervously as soon as they’re in the car, “I love your brother. I will never deliberately do anything to hurt him, I promise.”

Josh looks at him in surprise, but then a smile tugs at his lips, the first one Jared’s seen him crack since he got here. “Jared, I’m not worried. Well, I am, but not about that.” He turns to stare out the window at the dull gray streets. The snow is finally gone but it’s only the 3rd of March and spring isn’t in any hurry to get to this part of the country.

“Has he...” He pauses then starts again. “Does he ever talk about me? And when I say talk I mean... you know what I mean.”

Jared’s not sure what to say. “He doesn’t really talk about any of you but... you've been in a few of his drawings.” Josh looks over at him, clearly expecting more, so Jared adds awkwardly, “You usually look pretty mad in them.” He shoots Josh a glance and cringes at the stricken look on his face. “Not like you’ve been fighting, just angry.”

Suddenly he remembers Jensen’s painting from a few weeks ago, of the two brothers playing video games and describes it as vividly as he can.

Josh nods, blinking rapidly. He clears his throat, his voice slightly hoarse when he says, “We used to do that, before. After...” He takes a deep breath. “He’s right. I was angry. So damn angry. But not at him. Never at him.” He’s silent for a long time, so long that Jared’s thinking of talking about the weather or just anything to break the tension, when Josh suddenly bursts out, “You know, he hated me. He did, I could tell. He hated my guts. But not as much as I hated myself.” He waves away Jared’s attempt to protest. “No. I did. I still do. Because it was my fault.”

Jared stills. “What?”

“There was this girl...” Josh shakes his head and laughs. It sounds horrible. “She asked me to walk her home so... I ditched him. I ditched my little brother. I told, I told him to go home. To get lost.” He falls silent, the last word hanging huge and heavy between them.

“You had no way of knowing what would happen,” Jared says carefully. Jesus, he can’t imagine carrying that kind of guilt for all these years.

“Doesn’t matter. I should have been there. I could have prevented it. Could have kept that fucking sicko from...” Josh stops, jaw clenched.

“You don’t know that,” Jared tries to reason. “Maybe he would have taken both of you. Maybe he’d just have waited for a better opportunity.”

“Maybe he would have taken someone else!” Josh snaps, and _there’s_ the anger Jared recognizes from Jensen’s drawings.

Jared swallows. “And maybe that little boy would have died.”

“Don’t,” Josh warns coldly. “Don’t expect me to put some stranger before my own brother.”

Jared sighs. “I’m not. I’m just sayin’... He’s still here, you know. He’s not the same kid you used to know, but he’s still your brother. You can still be there for him.”

Josh snorts. “Like he’d even want me to.”

Jared shakes his head. “I know he acts like he doesn’t care, but believe me, he does. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made that painting.”

Josh looks over at him. He doesn’t look convinced, but Jared thinks he can detect a hint of hope in the pale green eyes that look nothing like Jensen’s.

“Yeah, maybe.” Josh clears his throat. “I never told our parents. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I told them he hadn’t waited for me, like he was supposed to. I just... I couldn’t.”

“I won’t tell them,” Jared assures him. It’s not his place, whatever he might think. “But you need to tell Jensen.”

Josh shakes his head. “No! What the hell for? We’re finally talking. He’s just gonna hate me again, just like before.”

“Because from what I could see in those drawings, he thinks _you’re_ mad at _him_. That you blame him for... I don’t know. For changing. For not being normal. I'm guessing the way you reacted seemed like rejection, and that probably hurt like hell.” He sighs when Josh flinches. Maybe he’s projecting his own issues a little too much. He just has very little tolerance for stupid brothers. “Just talk to him. You both need to set things straight.”

Josh doesn’t answer, but after a while he nods. They reach the pizza place and Jared parks the truck, bringing their conversation to an end. Just as well, he really doesn’t know what else to say. Besides, this isn’t really his business. However much he wants to help bring the brothers back together, this is something they need to work out between themselves.

 

Everything is quiet and calm when they come back. Alan Ackles is looking through Jensen’s newest collection of paintings, his son watching him with an expression of intense boredom that doesn’t fool Jared one bit. Jensen may hate his father’s meddling when it comes to his career but that doesn’t mean he’s indifferent to his opinion. In fact Jared thinks that makes him crave his father’s approval even more, if for no other reason than to rub his independence and success in his parents’ faces, like ‘Look, I’m doing fine without you.’

Mac is yet again glued to her phone and Chris and Jensen’s mother are in the kitchen area, talking politely as they lay the table for dinner. Jared can’t help admiring Chris’s restraint. Ever since they found out the truth about Jensen’s captivity Chris has been feeling a growing resentment towards Jensen’s parents. He tries to keep it in check whenever Jensen is around – Jared’s not sure why, after all chances are Jensen would agree with him – but he unleashes his wrath regularly when it’s just him and Jared, and sometimes Sophia. Honestly, he’d been expecting Chris to fly off the handle the minute Jensen’s parents arrived, but so far he’s been a model host. Still, the cracks are showing and Jared’s not sure how much longer he can keep it in. Just as well the Ackles clan is heading home at noon tomorrow.

The conversation around the table is easier than last night although Jensen still isn’t saying much, and Josh is quiet as well. When they’re done eating, Jensen’s parents sit down on the couch with their coffee, while Jared helps Mac clean up, acting like he doesn’t notice Josh dragging Jensen out of the apartment for a ‘walk’. Jensen doesn’t look too happy, but with the weather being so nice, and nothing needing his attention, he doesn’t really have an excuse not to go.

They don’t come back until over an hour later. Jared searches Jensen for any hint at how their conversation went but his face is blank as he goes straight to his easel and starts to sort out his brushes and paint. Josh isn’t much help either, with his closed off face and aloof manner he’s impossible to read, and when he catches Jared watching him, he only offers a light shrug that doesn’t tell Jared anything.

It’s weird having so many people in the small apartment. The couch only takes three, the chair one. It feels rude to sit at the kitchen table even if it’s in the same room, since it's situated behind the couch. Jared ends up sitting on Jensen’s bed, feeling extremely self-conscious every time someone in Jensen’s family looks his way. What if they’re picturing what he and Jensen do in that bed together? Chris keeps standing up and puttering about like an anxious housewife, offering their guests beverages and snacks and different topics of conversation. Jensen seems to have conveniently forgotten about all of them, his focus directed at whatever it is he’s painting. Time ticks slowly by until, finally, Jensen’s parents yawn and hum and ha and get up to leave for their hotel.

Jared and Chris say goodbye to them at the door with Jensen only offering a distracted wave. Chris stands by the window, as if to make sure they’re leaving, before going into the kitchen and pouring himself a large drink.

“Tomorrow can’t come early enough,” he grumbles, downing the golden liquid and filling the glass again. “I know they’re family but sometimes I just...” He shakes his head and takes another big gulp.

Jared doesn’t point out that they’re not actually _Chris’s_ family. After all, with Jensen and Chris being what they are, they might as well be.

“They’re not _that_ bad.” At Chris’s incredulous look he relents. “Okay, they’re a bit bad but they’re trying.”

“They’re _always_ trying,” Chris mutters. “That’s the problem. How about actually _doing_ something for a change?”

“Well, Yoda, maybe they don’t believe in The Force,” Jared says gravely.

“Haha, funny. Chewbacca,” Chris shoots back with a glare, but he can’t help cracking a smile when Jared shakes the mop of hair into his eyes and does a very loud impression of a Wookie.

Jensen doesn’t even look up. He’s still standing by the easel when Jared kisses him on the cheek and goes to bed a little after midnight.

\--------

Jensen forgives his parents for waking him up before ten the next morning but only because they bring hot coffee and enough pastries and fresh fruit to feed a whole army. He sits unshaven, with bed-hair, in dirty jeans and a stale smelling t-shirt, clutching his coffee mug and munching on a chocolate croissant while trying to ignore his parents’ loving gaze. He’s not sure what time he went to bed but he definitely hasn’t had enough sleep to be even remotely coherent.

“Jared tells me you’re thinking of starting an art class for kids,” his dad suddenly says.

Jensen shoots a flustered Jared an admonishing look, but he’s really too tired to muster up any real anger at Jared for sharing what's really not any of their business. Instead he nods and shrugs and takes another gulp of coffee. He waits for the usual flood of criticism but his father only smiles at him and goes back to eating his breakfast. His mother is fidgeting though, and he can feel himself tensing with apprehension. “What?” he finally whispers.

She looks at him, startled, then smiles softly and reaches for his hand across the table. Oh God, he hopes she’s not going to cry again.

“You’re doing so well, honey,” she says with a proud smile. “It’s amazing.”

He gives her a quick awkward smile.

“I know you hate it when we talk about your speech, but, honey, hearing you talk...” She smiles and shakes her head. “You’ll understand when you have children of your own.”

Jensen chokes, spitting coffee all over the table. His sister slaps him helpfully on the back, glowing with glee. Jared’s face looks as if it might catch fire any minute. Everyone else seems uncertain whether they should be grinning or ignoring the display.

“Mom!” Jensen sputters when he finally gets his breath back. “I’m gay!”

She dismisses that with a wave. “So? You can adopt.”

He stares at the hopeful smile on her face. Then he looks over at Jared who, despite his embarrassment, meets his gaze with a small smile of his own. Oh shit.

Jensen swallows. “No,” he says quietly, watching Jared’s smile slip away. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can. There’s no law against that in this state.”

He takes a deep breath and finally looks away from Jared’s sad but understanding eyes to meet his mother’s clueless grin. “ _I_ can’t. Not with my medical record.”

She looks stunned, like that hadn’t even occurred to her. “But...”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry.” He puts away his mug and stands up. “Jared?”

Jared instantly gets up and follows Jensen into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says as soon as the door is locked behind them. He rubs his eyes, feeling so damn tired. “Shit, Jared.”

“Jensen, it’s okay,” Jared says gently. “I never expected to have children anyway.”

Jensen shakes his head. Doesn’t matter if Jared expected it or not, he should have the option. And if he sticks with Jensen, he never will.

“Dude, stop it. I’m eighteen,” Jared says, a smile in his voice. “I refuse to have a midlife crisis now just because you can’t get pregnant.”

Jensen can’t help it, he snorts out a laugh. “Me? You’re the girl.”

“Not tonight, I won’t be.”

Jensen’s gaze jumps up so fast he feels dizzy. “Tonight?” he repeats, his mouth dry.

“If you still want to.” Jared looks uncertain all of a sudden, so Jensen grabs him by the neck and pulls him down for a hard, deep kiss before fixing him with a heated gaze.

“No waiting. Now. As soon as my parents leave.”

Jared visibly gulps. “We’ll have to get rid off Chris.”

Jensen grins. “No problem.”

The rest of breakfast goes by infuriatingly slowly. He waves off his mother’s flustered apologies and urges them to please have some more, hoping that the faster they finish the faster they’ll leave. But his dad wants to read the news and Mac wants to charge her phone and his mother keeps trying to make up for her blunder by talking a mile per minute. It’s not until Chris points out that traffic will pick up considerably after twelve o’clock that they show signs of leaving. That’s when Jensen suddenly remembers the painting.

It’s darker than he remembers – but then again he’d been dead tired by the time he finally finished – and the parts where the paint is thickest haven’t quite dried yet, but it will have to do. He picks it up from the easel and turns it around, holding it out to Josh. “Here.”

The room falls deadly quiet. He feels unsure all of a sudden and pushes the painting forward, silently begging Josh to take it because he doesn’t trust his voice to work.

“Jensen,” Josh says, sounding choked. “That’s...” He straightens up, shoulders squaring, and carefully, almost reverently, accepts the painting from Jensen’s outstretched hands. “Thank you.”

Jensen manages a small smile, hands dropping to his sides in relief. Not that he really thought Josh wouldn’t take it. Truth is, he’s quite pleased with it. He suspects their respective heights might be off but too much difference would have made Josh’s arm over his shoulders look weird. He got their expressions from those home videos his parents used to make him watch in hope that they’d trigger his memory. It’s been years since he saw any of them so he probably didn’t get it quite right but it’s the only referential source he has of him and his brother looking happy together.

His mother looks like she’s about to start crying again, so he quickly hugs them goodbye – which triggers _another_ emotional outburst – and practically pushes them out the door. Him and Jared watch from the window as the Ackles clan gets into the taxi – the painting gingerly balanced on top of the luggage in the back – and finally leave.

“It has to be five o’clock somewhere,” Chris says gruffly and heads for the kitchen, but Jensen grabs him by the elbow and turns him around, steering him to the door and ignoring his loud protests of, “Let me go! What are you–”

“We’re gonna have sex,” Jensen announces, smirking at Jared’s startled cough.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chris groans. “It’s the middle of the day! Can’t you wait until later?”

“No. Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Chris grabs his jacket and throws them a glare - like he hasn’t been waiting for a chance to meet up with Sophia for some sex of his own – before stalking out and slamming the door behind him.

Suddenly the apartment seems eerily quiet. Jensen turns to find Jared leaning against the wall, watching him with a hesitant but hopeful look in his eyes. “We’re really doing this?” he asks. “‘Cause you know, I’m good with waiting if you–”

“Bed, now,” Jensen orders and Jared’s mouth snaps shut, just like that.

Jensen pulls the t-shirt over his head, and with that the smell of sweat – relatively fresh but definitely in danger of quickly turning sour – suddenly hits him.

“Wait. I need...” He sniffs, wrinkles his nose and grimaces. “Ugh, yeah. Shower.”

Jared stares at him in disbelief, chest already bare and one leg out of his jeans. “You’re kidding, right?” he says.

Jensen fidgets, scratching his chest. And head. And... fuck, he itches everywhere. Ugh. And, double-ugh, his teeth feel kinda furry now he’s awake enough to pay attention to them. “No?”

It’s not that he’s anal when it comes to his morning routine, whatever Jared says – he managed for two whole hours without it this time, didn’t he? It’s just that, well, he’d rather not get constantly distracted by his own stink when he’s supposed to be thinking about a whole different kind of dirty.

“God, you’re such a princess,” Jared groans, but the smile he sends Jensen is more affectionate than annoyed. “Go on then, get yourself all fresh and pretty for me.”

“Nuhuh, you too,” Jensen says and tugs Jared along to the bathroom. “Think of it as foreplay.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Jensen slaps Jared on the ass, grinning. He feels light in his chest, the air clear as it rushes down his throat, free from any constrictions. He forms words with his lips, tests them out with his tongue. Feels slightly giddy with anticipation when everything works as it should.

He takes off his jeans as Jared turns on the shower and flings his underwear into the corner. Then steps under the spray, joining an already wet Jared. He puts his hands on Jared’s hips and tilts up his head, eyes closed against the fall of warm water on his face as they kiss. Jared’s big hands are cupping his ass, his dick thick and heavy where it slides along Jensen’s hipbone.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” Jared murmurs and kisses him again, at the corner of his mouth and along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe and then licking his way down the slope of Jensen’s neck until he reaches the shoulder where he locks on with his lips and sucks, hard enough that Jensen knows there will be a mark. He’s already breathing heavily, his eyes are still closed, his fingers digging into the toned muscles at Jared’s waist. His mouth waters at the thought of dropping to his knees and tasting Jared’s dick, letting it run along his palate and thrust down his throat. He lets himself get lost in the fantasy, watching it evolve and change and go further than he’s ever allowed his mind to go while Jared slides warm soapy hands all over his body, spurring the images on even further. Jared’s fingers dip lower, slipping into crevices and sliding over sensitive skin, making it tingle and flush hot.

“Jared?”

Jared hums and tips Jensen’s head back, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Jensen holds his breath, feeling the water slick his hair back as the suds wash away. Then he straightens up, blinks the water out of his eyes and says, loud and clear, “Fuck me.”

Jared pulls back to stare at him, eyes dark. There’s no trace of fear or uncertainty, just raw lust and need. “Yeah,” he says, and the heat in his voice sends shivers down Jensen’s spine. “Fuck, yes.”

He kisses Jensen hard and deep, his tongue thrusting into Jensen’s mouth, a needy growl rumbling in his chest. Jensen feels so dizzy he doesn’t even notice when the water is turned off but suddenly he’s standing wet and dripping in the middle of the bathroom with Jared rubbing his hair with a towel then haphazardly drying him off before throwing the towel aside and pulling him in for another greedy kiss.

They kiss their way out of the bathroom and across the room, bumping into doorways and walls and furniture before finally falling sideways on the still unmade bed. Jensen can’t remember them ever kissing like this. Not with Jared’s mouth crushing his lips or Jared’s hands gripping him so tight, so roughly. Gone are the hesitant gentle touches, gone are the light kisses and the held back emotions. This is raw, demanding need. Strong muscles and determined will.

It should terrify him, but all he feels is elevated with lust and need, so strong he can hardly contain it. Yes! This. God, _this_. Because underneath all that strength, all that want and lust and possessiveness, there’s love so deep, vibrating in Jared’s bones, thrumming through his veins, guiding every move of his muscles.

“God, I love you,” Jared groans, sucking marks all down Jensen’s chest and stomach. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna make you all _mine_.”

Jensen gasps, his hips thrusting upwards. “Yes. Please!”

“Mine!” Jared repeats with an angry growl and sucks him into his mouth.

Jensen loses his mind a little after that. He’s aware of Jared’s tongue and mouth, of intense heat and silky wetness. Of Jared’s rumbling voice asking him questions he’s too out of it to grasp but still answers yes to, every single one of them. Of Jared’s strong hands, his long fingers, the brush of his hair, the warmth of his breath. He lets himself be stroked and kissed and licked open, allows his body to be moved like Jared is the sea, is the waves, is the only thing holding him up. This is what it should be like.

There’s a moment, when the first finger enters him, cold and slick with lube, that he stops breathing. Just a moment of panic knocking on the door, rattling the doorknob. And he has to fight his brain not to let it in, has to remind himself that Fear isn’t real, isn’t a threat, isn’t anything that can actually hurt him, not unless he lets it. Just one moment, and then Jared’s mouth is back, sliding over his dick, warm and wet and wonderful, and the intruding finger becomes as much a part of him as Jared’s tongue is when it’s in his mouth, or Jared’s fingers are when they card through his hair. When the time comes to add another finger Jared moves up the bed, lips alternating between kissing Jensen and whispering words that tickle his skin, raising goose bumps and turning his ears red and hot in sync with the burn firing up his insides.

“So good, you’re so good. Fuck, you feel... So tight and warm. Can you feel that? Can you feel how much I love touching you, inside and out? God, I wanna touch you everywhere. Wanna touch every single inch of your fucking gorgeous body. Like that. Yes. Three fingers now. My fingers in you, filling you up. You like it? You like my fingers fucking you? My fingers. Mine!”

Jensen gasps yes, and Jared and please, please, please, oh, God, and before he knows it he’s got Jared looming over him, eyes gazing down, dark and desperate with need, as narrow hips push their way in between his knees, his thighs, then closer, pressing down, the hard length of Jared’s cock slipping in the sweat pooling on his belly.

“Now?” Jared asks, breathing harshly, his chest flushed red and gleaming with sweat. “You sure? You ready?”

And Jensen just nods, because even if, for once, his words are all there, he can’t think of a single thing to say. Jared sucks in his breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if the sight of them finally coming together is enough to finish him if he watches it happen. And then his mouth is on Jensen’s, kissing him, sucking his tongue into his mouth and pushing his own into Jensen’s mouth, and it’s so amazing, so overwhelmingly good, that he doesn’t even realize what’s happening until the sharp sting of the thick head pushing past the rim breaks through the haze.

His eyes slam open, meeting Jared’s shocked stare that mirror’s his own. “Don’t–” he manages to choke out and Jared’s eyes widen in panic. He starts to pull back but Jensen grabs his arm, digging his fingers hard into the strained muscle. “Don’t move! Wait...”

They stare into each other’s eyes. Time is measured in inhales and exhales, obscenely loud in the empty room. It hurts, it does – of course it fucking does! – but that’s not what has his heart beating so hard he thinks it might break the bones in his chest.

“You’re in me,” he finally whispers, voice as hoarse as it’s ever been.

He can see Jared swallow, Adam’s apple moving up and down his throat, before he answers with a raspy, “Yes.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

One corner of Jared’s mouth trembles. For a while it looks as if he’s trying to swallow his own tongue, but then suddenly a burst of air escapes from between his pinched lips and he giggles, honestly _giggles_ like a schoolgirl. “I’m trying, but you told me not to move!”

Jensen tries to look indignant – Really, this is a serious moment in their relationship! – but before he can help it he’s laughing as well. “It’s not funny,” he hiccups. “Stop laughing!”

Jared pinches his lips together but all that does is make his whole body shake with laughter. Jensen’s own giggles cut off as the movement pushes Jared forward, his cock inching its way inside in short shallow thrusts. “Jesus!”

Jared freezes. “Shit! I’m sorry. You okay?”

Jensen nods. It stings but the pressure has at least shifted a little. “I’m good. You can... Move. But slowly.”

Considering how easily he swallows Jared down his throat, it’s unreal how fucking _hard_ it is to let him into his body. Jesus Christ, he doesn’t remember Jared’s dick being _this_ long! Or wide. How elastic exactly is that whole passage, because it feels like it’s about to burst wide open. All over his insides! He’s starting to manically calculate in his head just how close this monster cock must be getting to his diaphragm, when he suddenly feels the light slap of Jared’s balls against his ass, and then, a short moment later, the weight of them settling there.

Everything goes still.

“Jensen?”

He nods, gritting his teeth. What is wrong with people? How can they enjoy this? Holy fucking Christ!

“I’m hurting you. Shit, I’m sorry. I’m trying but...”

He shakes his head. “Shut up. Shut up, shut up. How… When I... you? What did...?” He waves his hand in frustration.

There’s an awkward pause. “Well, you’re smaller so–”

“I will _kill_ you!” Jensen hisses.

“Sorry!” Jared says, sounding frantic. “I’m sorry my dick is too big. Oh! Oh-oh-oh!”

“Oh? Oh what?”

“When you did me! You moved! Then it got a whole lot better.”

“Move!”

He sucks in his breath when Jared slowly pulls out, thankfully not the whole way, then grunts when he pushes even slower back in.

Different? Yes. Better? No. Definitely not.

“Hold on.”

Jared repeats the movement, then again a bit firmer, finally setting up a slow but steady pace, sliding in and out. Okay, it’s getting easier, but it’s still far from good. Jared likes this? Why? It’s fucking stupid. It’s–

“A few more times and then you did something like this–”

“Oh fucking shit!”

“Better?” Jared asks, sounding desperately hopeful.

“Jesus!” Jensen gasps. He think he might have bitten a hole through his tongue. He can’t really catch his breath. Jared is starting to look a little spooked.

“Does that mean yes?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. So...” Jared does the same kind of rotating movement with his hips, and Jensen almost shoots off the mattress.

“Fuck!”

“Okay, okay! I’ve got this now! Hold on tight.”

And that’s exactly what he does, with his fingers digging into Jared’s shoulders, and his legs wrapped around Jared’s waist, he holds on for dear life. He forgets about breathing, and talking and his fear, and whatever pain lingers. There’s just the creaking of the bed, the slap-slap-slap of Jared’s balls against his ass, the sight of the tendons in Jared’s neck looking like they’re about to spring out of his skin, Jared’s voice babbling incoherently, the overwhelming feeling of something too big, and too strong and too damn good filling his body, until he can’t... he can’t anymore! It’s too much. It’s–

Jared’s hand forces its way in between their bodies and grabs hold of Jensen’s dick, jerking frantically, and that’s it, he’s done. Jensen cries out as he comes so hard the whole world goes white. He can hear Jared chanting, “Ohgodohgodohgod,” as he jerks his hips frantically, then everything goes absolutely quiet for one second, before Jared gasps, and shudders and finally collapses, crushing Jensen beneath him.

This would be the perfect time to panic, Jensen’s brain reminds him, but it’s so absent from the rest of his body he more or less ignores the suggestion. He does make a weak attempt of pushing Jared away when the significant weight pressing down on him proves to be a major obstacle for breathing. Too weak apparently, because Jared doesn’t move an inch. Okay, _now_ he's panicking.

“Umph,” Jared mumbles sleepily in protest, when Jensen flails and hits him on the ear, then suddenly he jerks awake and rolls away so fast he almost falls off the bed. The abrupt extraction has Jensen gasping in pain while choking on much needed air. Oh Jesus!

“Sorry, sorry!”

Jensen’s too busy trying to breathe to answer. It’s not working. Too shallow inhales, hardly any exhales, head getting exceedingly dizzy... Chest hurts. Head hurts. He hurts... Oh shit. No! Go away!

“Breathe,” Jared says gently, stroking his chest. “Come on. Dude, you’re not dying until we’ve done that a least five more times.”

The kid whimpers in Jensen’s head, so loud he can’t help echoing it. Jared goes instantly still by his side. There’s a long pause, then Jared starts talking, his voice so low Jensen can hardly hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“No. You tell the kid to fuck off, you hear me? I’m not having him in my bed ever again. Jensen, can you hear me? Tell him!”

“Fuck. Off,” Jensen gasps. “Go! I. Don’t. Fucking. Need. You.”

“Because you’ve got me now.”

“I’ve. Got. Jared,” he agrees through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. So get lost, kiddo.”

Slowly but surely the pressure eases. Jensen opens his eyes. Jared is gazing down at him. He’s smiling. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Jensen croaks. He clears his throat. “Sorry. He panicked.”

“No,” Jared says gently. “ _You_ panicked.”

Jensen swallows. He nods. “I panicked. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for that.” Jared runs his hand through Jensen’s sweat-soaked hair, fingers warm and soothing against his scalp. “Guess what? We just had sex.”

Jensen coughs a laugh. Suddenly he feels amazing! Okay, so his ass stings like a motherfucker, and his whole body aches, and his throat feels raw, and his chest still hurts a little, and he thinks he banged his head into the wall at one point, and, ow! Guess he did bite his tongue.

Still... He feels fucking awesome! And tired. So damn tired. He’s just gonna close his eyes for a little while...


	18. Epilogue

The Black Bean looks the same as always, with the lunch crowd slowly thinning, and the usual, tired-looking students slouching in their regular corners, the smell of freshly brewed coffee seeming the only thing keeping them awake. Still, that doesn’t mean anything.

“Where’s Jensen?” Jared asks, not bothering with hellos.

“Back room,” Chris snaps, jerking his head over his shoulder. “Please take him off my hands.”

Jared clenches his jaw and prepares for the worse. True, they haven’t had a serious fallback in months, but Jensen’s been so damn edgy lately with planning the whole art program – hardly sleeping, and living on coffee and little else – that it’s a miracle how well he’s been holding up. A few panic attacks, some temper tantrums, and one flashback episode that had him knocked out in bed for the rest of the day, but other than that he’s mostly just bad tempered and tired.

Jared opens the door to the back room slowly, in case Jensen is in the easily spooked stage, and finds Jensen sitting by the small table, hunched over his notebook. He looks up when Jared steps into the room, and although his eyes look slightly manic there’s no trace of fear or confusion in them. “Hey,” he says, smiling tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

The voice is low but clear, the words flow without effort, easily constructing whole sentences. Huh. Jared leans over to kiss him, laying a palm gently on Jensen’s neck. The skin is warm but dry, and his heartbeat seems normal.

“Chris called me,” Jared says slowly, not sure what’s going on, “asking me to please take you home. I thought you had an episode.”

Jensen looks confused for a moment, but then he rolls his eyes, scowling in annoyance. “Fucking asshole. I’m fine,” he says, straightening up and squaring his shoulders with a low groan. “Tell him to mind his own fucking business.” He rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, shoulders already slumping again.

Ah.

Jared shakes his head and takes Jensen’s notebook, closing it and sticking it in his bag, then grabs a sputtering Jensen by the shoulders and heaves him to his feet.

“Come on, you’re done for the day. Better yet, stop obsessing! You’re fine, it’s gonna be great. The lesson plan is good, the financial plan has already been approved, the grant came through... Everything is ready. You’re ready.”

“But...”

“No. Chris is right. You keep this up you really _are_ gonna have another episode. You don’t want to be knocked out at your own grand opening, do you?”

“It’s not a ‘grand opening’,” Jensen mutters, but he doesn’t put up a fight when Jared hands him his jacket. “It’s just the first day.”

“Dude, just because your students are tiny doesn’t mean it’s not grand,” Jared says with a smile, slinging one arm over Jensen’s shoulders. “Come on, stop worrying. It’s gonna be great, I’m telling you. And once they’ve all run home on their tiny little legs, telling their parents how amazing you were, and what a good time they had, I’m gonna take you home and show you how amazing _I_ think you are by showing _you_ a good time.”

Jensen snorts but Jared can feel the back of his neck heat up under his arm. He drags Jensen with him out of the back room, giving Chris a scowl and a push on the shoulder for scaring him without reason, as they squeeze by.

“It was an emergency for me!” Chris yells after them as they head for the door. “He was drinking all my coffee and scaring away costumers with his crazy mumbling.”

Jensen flips him the finger, looking annoyed, but as soon as they’re outside he grins and pushes Jared up against the window, kissing him until Chris starts banging on the glass with his fist, telling them to take their gay asses home, before he calls the police.

It’s a short walk to the apartment, but by the time they get there Jensen is already looking wiped out, leaning against Jared in a way that makes it obvious it’s more about staying upright than being close. Once inside they hang their jackets by the door, the space looking weirdly empty without Chris’s things, then make their way between the boxes that have yet to be picked up. Just a few more days, and all of Jared’s exams will be over, Sophia’s soon to-be-ex-roommate will have moved out, making space for Chris to move in, and, hopefully, Jensen’s art program will have launched, without him having a heart attack.

The sign-up sheet filled up on both sides within hours of Jensen hanging it up at the Bean, and for the next few days people just kept adding their kids’ names to scraps of paper and napkins when they ran out of space. Up until then Jensen had been pretty laid back about the whole thing – stressed yes, but not overly so. The plan had been to have two-hour classes three times a week for a small group of kids, ages six to twelve. He’d made a loose schedule, and a half-assed lesson plan, and figured he’d wing the rest, it couldn’t be that much different from his regular Thursday sessions. The unexpected (on his part, not Jared’s, not really) interest pretty much threw his whole plan out the window and consequently freaked him the fuck out. He’d been spending every free moment – and most of his busy ones as well – since then, making new plans and schedules, never satisfied with any of them and convinced he was going to screw everything up.

“Your fault!” he’d yelled at Jared a few weeks ago after sweeping all the paperwork off the kitchen table, his pupils wide, and hands shaking with too much caffeine. “This whole thing was your stupid idea!”

“Uh no,” Jared had pointed out, feeling pretty freaked out himself. “You wanted to do it. You _want_ to do it. You _can_ do it. Just stop stressing so much!”

“I can’t, I can’t do this. I can’t...”

Jensen had staggered back, and Jared had only just managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

That had been his third panic attack that week, and it had made Jared seriously consider drugging him unconscious until the opening day. The other option was to blow the whole thing off, but every time Jared thought it couldn’t be worth all this hassle he remembered how excited Jensen had been in the beginning, how much he wanted this.

After talking it over with Chris, Jared brought in Sophia – without asking Jensen, because he’d known Jensen would never agree to it. This was his baby, and he was stubborn enough to want to do everything himself, even if he was going nowhere fast. Sophia had an excellent business plan ready within a day, as well as having drawn up suggestions for the groups, divided on different days of the week, all of which she presented to a hostile looking Jensen.

“Since you’re only doing weekdays it has to be after school, which gives you only a few hours per day. The younger ones can’t be too late in the day because then they’ll be too tired to pay attention. And the younger they are, the fewer you can have in each group, unless you get an assistant. Which you really need to do anyway, preferably a female one. That’s for your own protection as much as for the kids,” she continued when Jensen made to object. “Parents are always wary of leaving their children alone with a man. I don't have to have to tell you why. It has nothing to do with you personally, Jensen, so stop glaring at me. It’s just the way it is.”

Once Jensen got over feeling offended, he’d had to admit her ideas were good, and her plan seemed more likely to success than his own. That didn’t keep him from obsessing over every little detail, constantly tweaking the numbers and trying out different schedules but grudgingly always coming back to her original ones. Jared thinks it has less to do with him being actually worried and more to do with his resentment at needing help, which is why now, less than a week from the “grand opening”, Jensen is still looking for ways to make the whole thing his and only his. Jared has long since given up on arguing with him. He figures once they’re past the first week Jensen will move on and forget all about it.

“I need a shower,” Jensen sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. It leaves it sticking up in all directions, so Jared is inclined to agree with him, even if he secretly loves it when Jensen smells like Jensen instead of soap. Even better when the smell is a mix of coffee, paint and Jensen. They’re still working on that whole clean freak issue, as well as some other minor things, but he’s a lot more relaxed when it comes to hygiene than the man Jared met less than a year ago, sometimes even going a whole day without showering.

Jared orders pizza while the shower runs, figuring they’re both too tired to make anything. It arrives just as Jensen is toweling off in the living room, offering the flustered delivery boy a nice view of his naked ass. Jared would accuse him of doing it on purpose – he’s still an inconsiderate asshole half the time – but the blank expression tells him Jensen is probably miles away, either still calculating in his head or just spacing out. Sure enough, when Jared tells him to come grab a plate, he looks up, clearly surprised that the food has already arrived.

“No more planning. Just eating and watching TV,” Jared says firmly, once they’re both seated in front of the screen with food and beer.

Jensen waves his hand absently, either in agreement or objection, his face is too worn out to tell. He tends to go quiet when he’s tired, falling back on old ways as if the act of talking still challenges him. And it does, there are times – moments though rather than hours or days, like before – when his throat closes up, and it’s like nothing has changed. Jared can see the fear in Jensen’s eyes every time that happens, like he’s still scared that his voice will disappear, maybe this time for good.

Thankfully his writing has improved immensely, even if it’s still hardly legible. That has more to do with lack of practice for the last decade than any mental issues though. In fact Jensen's handwriting resembles Jared’s own at the age of ten. Jensen’s actually quite good at spelling now his brain has stopped messing with it. He keeps a small notebook in his pocket, in case of muteness, but lately its pages have more drawings on them than words, and Jared believes it’s only a matter of time before Jensen stops needing it altogether.

He’s careful not to get his hopes up too high despite of all that. Things might be better but they’re not, nor will they ever be, completely “normal”.

Jensen might not need to shower twice a day anymore (even if he almost always does) but that one time Jared forgot to put on deodorant and tried to hug him after a hot, sweaty day, he almost got his nose bashed in by Jensen's panicked fists. Loud sudden noises scare the shit out of him, small spaces have him hyperventilating. He gets nightmares, sometimes so violent he wets the bed. And even if he does like bottoming, he more times chooses to top because he can’t get over his fear of the kid showing up and taking over.

Jensen still calls him ‘the kid’, like they’re separate beings, and boy, does he hate that kid’s guts. Dr. Ferris thinks (and Jared silently agrees with her) that Jensen needs to accept that part of himself, even show it some compassion, instead of resenting it so much, but Jensen refuses to even consider it. To him his alter younger ego is a parasite that feeds on memories it won’t even share with its older self. He sees no reason to show compassion for it, even if it’s a child. It’s the weirdest kind of self-hatred Jared’s ever heard of.

A muffled sound makes Jared look over, and sure enough; Jensen’s head is tilted back, mouth open on a snore, a half-eaten slice of pizza slowly slipping out of his slack hand. Jared removes it carefully and puts it on the plate on the table. It’s only seven o’clock, which means chances are Jensen will wake up in a couple of hours with a crick in his neck, either grumpy or horny, depending on how good his nap was. Jared finishes his own slice then pulls Jensen down to lay his head on his lap. He smiles when Jensen mutters in his sleep and buries his face in Jared’s crotch. Maybe not grumpy, this time.

He dozes off himself after a while, not surprisingly since the last few weeks have been hectic. He’s only got one exam left, a pretty easy one. At least easy enough that he’s not feeling too guilty about taking a night off. Well, okay, maybe a little guilty, because he starts dreaming about being lost on campus, unable to find the room his exam is supposed to be in. He’s about to panic, when the dream suddenly changes, and he’s at the pool he used to frequent back home in Texas when he was a kid, happily rushing down the water-slide. It’s nice and warm and wet and...

His eyes spring open. Okay, that is _not_ a dream.

He groans, fingers grabbing hold of Jensen’s hair. Jesus, it’s not fair how good Jensen is at this. He knows just when to put the right pressure in the right places, knows when to suck and when to lick and when to just open wide so Jared can fuck into his mouth. And when he swallows Jared down, so far his nose buries in Jared’s curls, it’s so incredibly good. Oh God.

“I’m gonna...” Jared gasps in warning, trying to pull back, but Jensen just grabs his wrist and presses the hand to the top of his head, telling him to hold on. Then he swallows, Adam’s apple sliding under the head of Jared’s cock, squeezing it and... Jesus fucking Christ, he’s done. His toes curl, and his mouth falls open, and his hips shoot forward without him meaning to. Jensen doesn’t fight it, he just swallows again, milking drop after drop down his throat, his eyes closed in bliss. He doesn’t relent until Jared starts whimpering and pushing at Jensen’s head, begging him to lay off. Even then he only backs off a little, keeping Jared’s cock in his mouth and massaging it gently with his tongue, though soon even that becomes too much.

“Stop. You’re gonna kill me,” Jared slurs. His brain is half-way between sleep and awake, his bones melted into goo. He could fall asleep right here.

Jensen hums and gives him a last lick before sitting back, eyes heated and a wicked smile on his lips. He raises one eyebrow suggestively.

“Nuhuh, if we’re gonna do that I need the bed,” Jared mumbles and staggers to his feet, pulling Jensen along with him. “Just wake me up when you’re done,” he adds jokingly as he falls face first on the mattress, jeans around his knees.

He expects Jensen to elbow him awake, but instead he finds himself being undressed, jeans and underwear pulled down his legs and tossed on the floor, and his knees pushed apart. The t-shirt stays but is pushed up to his armpits. He struggles to get up on all fours, but Jensen shushes him, stroking down his spine, until he relaxes, his brain returning to its half-comatose state. He wakes up a little when something cold touches his entrance, but as soon as Jensen’s fingers heat it up he’s out again. It feels a little like floating, his head empty of thought, and his limbs like liquid. When the first finger pushes slowly inside he sighs happily, just to let Jensen know that whatever he wants to do, it’s okay, in fact it’s more than fine. He still feels loose since this morning, and there are few things he loves more than Jensen fucking him. Even if he’s barely conscious when it’s happening.

He allows his brain to take a vacation and just lies there compliant, small moans and whimpers the only indication that he’s aware of what’s going on. Suddenly Jensen’s fingers slip out, but Jared doesn’t even have time to miss them before Jensen’s cock is being slowly pushed into him. He sighs a drawn-out moan as he’s filled, inch by inch. They don’t usually do it this slowly, and it makes Jared wonder if Jensen feels guilty or weird for doing it like this, without Jared’s active participation.

“Okay?” Jensen asks, sounding slightly breathless, and Jared musters up just enough energy to nod and murmur a happy sound that has Jensen laughing softly. Jared smiles, he loves making Jensen laugh and, with sex still being a pretty big deal between them, hearing Jensen laugh _during_ is even sweeter.

The smile slips away and his mouth goes slack with the first shallow thrust. God, it’s good. So, so good. He grunts which encourages Jensen to go deeper but it’s still so slow and gentle Jared starts to drift off again. Instead of hitting Jared’s prostate the way Jensen usually aims at, he barely touches it. The light, far-between bumps still jolt him, but in such a subtle way that it takes him a moment to realize they’re actually driving him insane.

“More,” he moans and tries to push back, but instead of picking up speed Jensen presses his chest down on Jared’s back, keeping him still with his weight. Then resumes sliding in and out, slow and lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Bastard,” Jared mumbles although it sounds more like, “Bsta,” since he doesn’t have the energy to actually form the word. Jensen seems to get it anyway, because he laughs and kisses Jared on the ear then nuzzles into his neck, licking up the sweat that’s starting to gather at the base of his skull. “Fuck,” Jared groans.

It goes on like that for a while, until Jared suddenly finds himself in the middle of a dream, a really weird one where Chris and Chad are sitting on the couch, watching them fuck and providing less than complimentary commentary. He’s about to tell them to shut up and get the hell out, when a sudden hard thrust jerks him awake. Jensen is groaning, his breathing getting heavier and his movements more erratic. Suddenly it’s like he can’t hold back any more. He grabs Jared by the hips and pulls him up to his knees, fucking into him hard and deep, faster and faster, until he comes with a guttural shout and slumps forward, shaking and shivering, crashing Jared back to the mattress under his weight.

“Good?” Jared murmurs, pawing awkwardly behind him with one hand and accidentally smacking Jensen’s butt. Jensen hums but doesn’t bother answering; no surprise, he’s never had much patience for stupid questions. “How long was I out?” Jared adds after a while, feeling more than a little embarrassed. Who falls asleep during sex?

“Dunno. Five minutes maybe.” Jensen’s voice is barely audible, all rough with sex and exhaustion.

“Sorry.”

“’S allright,” Jensen mumbles. “Was hot.”

“Fucking a dead guy?” Jared asks with a laugh. “You into necrophilia now?”

Jensen rolls off, groaning when his dick pulls loose. He collapses beside Jared, then rolls over and slings one arm over his waist, nuzzling into Jared’s neck. “Fucking you sleeping,” he corrects sleepily then coughs, as if embarrassed. “Kinda been wanting to do that.”

“Kinky bastard,” Jared teases and feels Jensen’s face heat up against his neck. “Well, feel free to sleepfuck me anytime. In fact, we should make it our Sunday morning special. Then I can sleep in and you're not as grumpy when you get up.”

Jensen snorts but doesn't even try to deny his morning attitude problem.

Jared yawns, and just like that his eyes fall shut. However much he wants to he just can’t open them again. He can hear Jensen mumbling something about brushing teeth and cleaning up, but by the time he realizes Jensen’s probably talking about him, he’s already dreaming again. Thankfully, this time, there’s no audience.

\--------

“Tie?”

Jensen rolls his eyes even if Jared can’t see him, since he’s got his back turned. “No.” Where is that damn shirt his mother gave him last Christmas? He’s pretty sure he kept it. Right?

“How about a bowtie? Bowties are cool. Eccentric.” When Jensen shoots him a glare over his shoulder, Jared frowns and nods solemnly. “You’re right. You’re eccentric enough as it is.”

Jensen snorts. “Fuck you.”

“Later. How about this?”

Jensen turns around, ready to shoot down whatever ridiculous fashion idea Jared is suggesting this time, but stops short. Jared is wearing a hopeful but nervous grin. On his upturned palm sits a small open box with a pendant, shining silvery against black velvet.

Jensen stares at it, stunned. “You bought me a butterfly,” he finally says, voice a little hoarse.

“A very _manly_ butterfly,” Jared says hurriedly. “See? It’s solid steel, all heavy and, and... stuff.” He shifts on his feet, teeth nibbling at one corner of his mouth. “I thought... Well, that painting you made... You know? With the window, and the...” He looks away, face turning red. “This was a stupid idea.”

“No,” Jensen says, swallowing. “No, it’s, it’s perfect.”

Jared glances at him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yes.” He steps forward, reaching out, then changes his mind and turns around, bowing his head. “Please?”

There’s a moment of silence, before Jared steps up behind him. He shivers when the cold metal settles on his chest, right at the top of his sternum, shivers even further at the touch of Jared’s fingers at the back of his neck, closing the clasp. “There.”

He turns sideways, finding his reflection in the small mirror above the dresser. Jared watches him in the mirror as he breathes in, then breathes out; the weight of the butterfly growing lighter with every breath. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” Jared says quietly, stepping up closer behind him.

He nods. “Yes.” His eyes slide up, meeting Jared’s in the mirror. “Thank you.”

Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s middle, chin coming down to rest on his shoulder. They stand like that for a while, just gazing at each other in the mirror. When Jensen turns his head, Jared meets him halfway. The kiss is awkward and crooked and perfect, and when it ends they’re both a little out of breath.

“Thank you,” Jensen repeats and turns in Jared’s arms, so he can face him. “It’s...” He stops, all out of words, and instead just smiles.

Jared smiles back, kisses him quickly and turns to the dresser. “I vote for the tight jeans that make your ass look great, and the black t-shirt that shows off your macho muscles.”

Jensen laughs. “Dude, they’re kids. I should not be showing off my _anything_. Besides,” he adds, accepting the jeans from Jared’s insistent hand, “my ass _always_ looks great.”

“Of course it does, dear,” Jared says sweetly then quickly jumps out of reach when Jensen tries to smack him. “And who’s talking about the kids? I told you I’d be there, right behind you.” His eyebrows wiggle in a way that is probably supposed to be sexy but just looks ridiculous. “Get it? Behind you.”

Jensen shakes his head, laughing softly as he pulls the t-shirt over his head. The pendant sits on the sun-freckled skin right at the bottom of the v. It looks pretty damn good. And, you know, so gay. (It’s a butterfly! Even a ton of steel can’t make a butterfly look 'manly'. Not that he’ll ever tell Jared that. And, well, he _is_ gay so... Whatever, bottom line is he likes butterflies. And this one is beautiful.)

“Also,” Jared adds casually as he pulls on a jacket, “once the class is done, I thought I’d take my boyfriend out to dinner. You know, to celebrate. Make him show off that nice ass and all those macho muscles.”

“Is that so?” Jensen says with a grin.

“Yep. Just long enough to make everyone jealous and horny, and _then_ I’m gonna take him home and fuck him ‘til he can’t see straight.”

Jensen chokes on his breath.

“That sound good to you?” Jared asks, eyes suddenly gone dark.

Jensen nods, licking his lips. Damn, these jeans _are_ pretty tight.

“Right,” Jared says and takes a deep breath. “Ready?”

Jensen glances into the hall mirror, straightens the collar of his jacket and brushes a stray hair off his shoulder. Then he reaches for Jared’s hand. Their fingers slide together, palms clasp.

“Yes,” he says and smiles. “Let’s go.”

Fin


	19. Author's notes

I bet you thought I’d stopped writing all together, right? Well, I haven’t. Time just flies when you’re trying to be a “real” writer. Although the emphasis should be on the word ‘trying’.

I began writing this story three years ago, as a short break from the rather draining task of rewriting and editing _Doors_ , which I had been working on for quite some time. I mean, it was fun but editing is quite different from writing something new and my brain was getting restless, it wanted to create a new world with new characters to play in. So this was supposed to be a quick piece, no more than ten pages. Three years later... Well, you see how well that worked out.

The idea of it came to me as I was watching some cop show or movie, I can’t remember what it was. There was a hostage situation involving a child, people were getting shot and all kinds of horrible things happening and it ended with the bank robber being killed, while still holding the child. After that the child was brought to its parents’ arms, no worse for the wear. And I thought, ‘Oh come on. That kid should be a basket case!’ I spent the rest of the evening thinking about this, imagining Sam and Dean facing all the horror they experienced as kids. Then I imagined Dean in a hostage situation while still quite young and wondered what the aftermath would be. Hmm, maybe I should write that, I thought. Could be fun. (Ha!)  
Except then I went to bed and as I was lying there, still thinking about Dean, what came to me was what is now the first pre-story scene of this story, Jensen’s memory of the rescue. Jensen basically threw Dean out of the story and made his own place in my brain. I instantly knew that he wasn’t just held hostage, he was kidnapped and horrible things were done to him. Things he can’t remember but haunt him anyway. I sat up, took out my notebook and wrote that first scene down. Then I went to sleep. Jensen being mute didn’t even occur to me until I wrote the first scene with Jensen and Chris and however much Chris ranted, Jensen wouldn’t talk back. That is how he let me know. (Whoever thinks I decide what I write, you’re wrong. This was all him. Blame him!)

I soon realized I had taken on a task that was far beyond my level of knowledge. This needed research. A lot of it. See, this is where it pays to be a librarian. I found articles on PTSD (which is such a complex disorder, OMG), selective mutism (which I discovered Jensen couldn’t have), converse disorders (where mutism happens but almost never and usually just for a short while), disassociation, age regression, flashbacks etc. My pile got very high, I even recruited my mother (who is a psychiatrist) and my sister’s mother-in-law (who works at the psych department’s library) to find me stuff. And then I read and read and read. And read some more. About rapes and child molestation and depression and suicide tendencies and violence and self-harm. While at the same time lurking on PTSD forums (only those open to public), reading true stories so horrible you wouldn’t believe it. And yes, like Mike says, they are brutally honest, not just about themselves but to others who come looking for help. And then I read some more, learning more than I ever wanted to know about the horrors human beings put each other through.

Until one day I realized I was sinking into depression, listening to emo music all the time and seeing potential evil in everyone around me. Jared’s reaction in the story is pretty much mirroring my own misery. This is when I stopped doing research. I took a break from writing, read a lot of cute and cuddly coffeehouse J2 AU, made a playlist called Happy Music and cried over silly romcoms. Then, when I stopped feeling like I wanted to set the world on fire, I continued writing, hoping what I’d already learned from my research, would be enough to get me to the finish line.

So if there’s stuff that makes you go, ‘What? No, that’s not right,’ that might be why. I just couldn’t go back to that place. As long as it’s not something that’s actually harmfully wrong, (which I would like to know about because yikes!), I’d ask for your suspension of belief and will wave my poetic license flag enthusiastically. So basically, I tried as I could to make things believable but I obviously have no idea what I’m talking about. Nothing like this has happened to me or anyone around me, I don’t know anyone with PTSD, I am not a doctor or a psychiatrist. Bottom line, this is fanfic, not a research paper. Take everything with a grain of salt or even a fistful.

Some points:

* First, the biggest thank you EVER to [](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**winchestergirl**](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/)!! *squishes her* I have to admit I have never wanted as much to be able to do art, as when writing this story. I could see every single piece Jensen did in my head, down to the smallest detail, and was itching to draw, even if I knew the outcome would probably be stick figures humping each other. Because there lies the limit of my amazing art skillz. But my actually amazing artist, [](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**winchestergirl**](http://winchestergirl.livejournal.com/), was such a champion, she managed to read my obscure descriptions and produce some magnificent pieces. To give you an idea of how INSANE I was, I gave her a list of the pieces mentioned in this story to work from, color coded from "Please do this one!!" to "Would be nice but not necessary" and it even had an "Uh no. We’re NOT doing that!" The list counted 88 items. 88!! I’m pretty sure the only reason she didn’t kill me on the spot was the fact that we’re on opposite sides of the planet. Obviously she didn’t do 88 pieces of art but she still did an amazing number and I love each and every one of them. Thank you, bb, for being amazing and for putting up with my insanity. You deserve all the cookies in the world. *squishes*

* [](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/profile)[**candygramme**](http://candygramme.livejournal.com/) read this monster and beta’d without complaining at all. I’ve made a lot of changes since then (sorry, love, I just couldn’t stop tweaking) so any and all mistakes are entirely my fault.

* Jensen Ackles (the real one) is amazing at conveying his characters’ thoughts and feeling with just his face. Or to quote the man himself: “I think you can say a lot without saying words.” I don’t think there are many other people that I would have felt confident placing in a role where communicating is done almost entirely with facial expressions and a few hand gestures. I would love them to do a (serious, not silly) silent SPN episode (it could be like a homage to _Buffy_ ’s “Hush”), I think it would be the best ever.

* I don’t think I’ve ever written as much crying as in this fic. I would feel weird about it except… well, I don’t. Jensen’s reaction is, as based on my research anyway, a rather realistic part of the dealing and healing progress. "But the other’s cry too. Men don’t cry! They’re too manly for that!" some might say. I don’t know about that, the men in my life are not ashamed to cry when the situation calls for it.

* On that same note, please remember Jared is only eighteen years old in this fic. He is basically still a kid. Just, you know, a legal one that can have sex a lot.

* I know people can go through horrible sexual abuse and not become anything like Jensen. In fact, I know people who have and are perfectly fine and live happy lives. The scars are still there but they don’t let them define them in any way. Jensen’s case is obviously not typical. It’s not even supposed to be anything close to typical. This is me exploring worst-case scenarios. Like when you read about the many horrible things people can go through and have to deal with and it says “most” when it comes to recovery? He is not most. He is that small tiny percent, the exception to the rule. Because that is what interested me.

* I know nothing about making coffee, I just drink a lot of latte. Also I might love latte art. Because I’m dorky like that.

* I used to know a woman who did art therapy with children. I have no idea if her methods were anything like my Sam’s in this. Probably not.

* If the story feels disjointed at parts it’s because the pre-story scenes were rather evenly distributed at the beginning and then as the story got longer and longer I had no pre-story stuff left to write about and just kept on with the main story which made the frequent flashbacks in the beginning look really weird. I took them all out, contemplated posting them all together as a prologue but finally decided to use them as intros to each chapter. So yeah, the first Jensen+Chris scene, it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? That’s because two of the pre-story scenes about Jensen were originally placed before it. I just didn’t know how to make it better. Sorry.

* I’m pretty sure I could write a fic based on nothing but Anna Ternheim’s music.

* I have been accused of over-victimizing Jensen, always making him the main woobie emo character. This story will probably do nothing to diffuse those accusations. Sorry. But, you know, you could always just find something else to read. Lots of good stories by amazing writers out there. All you got to do is look.

* "How could Chris not realize that it’s not that Jensen doesn’t want to talk but he can’t talk, isn’t he his best friend?" is a legitimate question because I know it seems weird. Well, according to what I read, selective mutes (which Jensen isn’t but in this regard the same applies) face this problem all the time, even from their parents who have known them their whole lives. People think it’s a choice (that’s why it was first called elective mutism but they fairly recently changed it to a more accurate term), that they stay silent to avoid conversations. People don’t realize they actually can’t talk in certain situations and instead they’re labeled as stubborn and rude etc. There are many great YouTube videos about selective mutism, if you want to see what it’s like from their perspective. Anyway, even if I decided Jensen didn’t have selective mutism because too much didn’t fit, (Like that contrary to popular belief (Hollywood) it’s not usually caused by trauma but is in fact an anxiety disorder that has the same causes as other anxiety disorders, meaning most times none. Shit just happens.) I could find so little about conversion mutism that I just had to go with whatever felt right and I’m sure I fucked it up. But basically, I went with his mutism being psychosomatic, caused by being told by his abuser to not talk or tell. So every time he tries to talk or write or sign, his brain stops him from talking, out of self-preservations. I know, it’s not very scientific but then again, this is fiction.

* Jensen’s amnesia is probably caused not only by emotional trauma but by the heavy blood loss his brain suffered before and during the surgery. I’m not planning to have him regain his memories. Ever.

* Fuller is not supposed to be Kurt Fuller. Honestly, I thought I’d picked a name that wasn’t associated with anyone and then I was watching SPN and Kurt Fuller’s name pops up on the screen and I went, “Oh yeah... Fuck.” I’ve been trying to find another one but nothing comes to mind. But in my head Jensen’s kidnapper looks nothing like Kurt Fuller, just so you know. He doesn’t really look like anyone, just creepy.

* I’ve been writing this so long I’ve had to change the years on the past scenes twice to move the present scenes to actual present. (Story now starts autumn 2012.) So if any of them are wrongly calculated, I might have missed some.

* Chad celebrates his and Danneel’s one-year anniversary all by himself, seeing as she still has no idea they’re dating. Or maybe she does and is silently enjoying all the attention but thinks he should have the balls to actually ask her out before she puts him out of his misery. (I don’t know why I’m always so cruel to Chad. Poor thing. *pets him*)

* Does Jared ever reconcile with his parents? I wouldn’t hold my breath. Not for them or his brother. Megan though… Let’s hope, okay?

\---------------

**Printed Resources I still have lying around**  
Unfortunately I've long ago lost the links to many online resources. And some of these weren't even helpfull since they weren't relevant to my needs. I just can't remember which ones so I'm just putting them all here. But like I said, it's been over two years since I read them so...

 

"Disorders of Hysterical Conversion" by B.K.Toone, p. 207-234 in _Physical Symptoms and Psychologival Illness_ , 1990

 _Current Concepts of Somatization: Research and Clinical Perspectives_ by Laurense J. Kirmayer, 1991

"Conversion Mutism: Case Report and Discussion" by Thorpe, Keegan and Veeman in _Can. J. Psychiatry, vol. 30 Feb. 1985_

"Childhood Trauma, the Neurobiology of Adaption & Use-dependent Development of the Brain: How States Become Traits" by Perry, Pollard, Blakley, Baker and Vigilante in _Infant Mental Health Journal, 1996_

"Dissociation and Neurobiological Consequences of Traumatic Stress" by Petr Bob in _Activitas Nervosa Superior, vol. 50, 1-2, 2008_

"The Effect of Hypnotically Induced Somatoform dissociation on the Development of Intrusion After an Aversive Film" by Hagenaars, van Minnen, Holmes, Brewin and Hoogduin in _Cognition and Emotion, 2008, 22 (5), 944-963_

"Dissociative Symptomatology in Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and Disorder of Extreme Stress" by Zucker, Spinazzola, Blaustein and van der Kolk in _Journal of Trauma and Dissociation 7:1, 19-31 2006_

"Psychogenic Voice Disorders and Traumatic Stress Experience: A Discussion Paper with Two Case Reports" by Janet Baker in _Journal of Voice, vol. 17, no. 3, 308-318 (2003)_

"Organic Syndromes Diagnosed as Conversion Disorders: Identification and Frequency in a Study of 85 Patients" by Moene, Landberg, Hoogduin, Spinhoven, Hertzberger, Kleyweg and Weeda in _Journal of Psychosomatic Research 49 (2000) 7-12_

"THe Problem of Psychogenic Symproms: Is The Psychiatric Community in Denial?" by Selim R. Benbadis in _Epilepsy and behavious 6 (2005) 9-14_

"Life Events and Difficulties in Relation to the Onset of Globus Pharyngis" by Harris, Deary and Wilson in _Journal of Psychosomatic Research, vol. 40, no. 6, 603-615 (1996)_

"Current and Emerging Concepts in Muscle Tension Dysphonia: A 30-Month Review" by Altman, Atkinson and Lazarus in _Journal of Voice, vol. 19, no. 2, 261-267 (2205)_

"Charles West: A 19th Century Perspective on Acquired Childhood Aphasia" by Hellal and Lorch in _Journal of Neurolinguistics 18 (2005) 345-360_

"The Black Box in Somatization: Unexplained Physical Symptoms, Culture and Narratives of Trauma" by Waitzkin and Magana in _Soc. Sci. Med. vol. 45, no. 6, 811-825 (1997)_

"Comprehensive Management of Psychogenic Dysphonia: A Case Illustration" by Sudhir, Chandra, Shivashankar and Yamini in _Journal of Communication Disorders 42 (2009) 305-312_

"Psychogenic Spasmodic Dysphonia: A Case Study with Expert Opinions" by Shimon Sapir in _Journal of Voice, vol. 9, no. 3 270-281 (1995)_

"Dysphonia: A Speech and Language Therapy Perspective" by R. Myers in _Journal of Bodywork and Moveent Therapies, 1999 3(3) 126-133_

"The Question of Symptom Lateralization in Conversion Disorder" by Roelofs, Narin, Moene and Hoogduin in _Journal of Psychosomatic Research 49 (2000) 21-25_

"Psychogenic Dysphonia: Peeling Back the Layers" by Janet Baker in _Journal of Voice, vol 12, no. 4 527-535 (1998)_

"Are There Two Qualitatively Distinct Forms of Dissociation? A Review and Some Clinical Implications" by Holmes, Brown, Mansell, Fearon, Hunter, Frasquilho and Oakley in _Clinical Psychology Review 25 (2005) 1-23_

 _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders 4th ed. Text Revision (DSM-IV-TR)_ (Chapters: "300.11 Conversion Disorder", "300.12 Dissociative Amnesia (formerly Psychogenic Amnesia)", "309.81 Postraumatic Stress Disorder", "313.23 Selective Mutism (formerly Elective Mutism)", "333.7 Neuroleptic-Induced Acute Dysphonia", "Panic Attack" and "Dissociative Trance Disorder".)


	20. Soundtrack.

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/251067/251067_original.jpg)[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/felisblanco/2047684/251159/251159_original.jpg)  
Downloadable as a [zip file](https://www.sendspace.com/file/2uzjgz). [Links for individual songs no longer active.]

1\. Where it begins  
_A shout. A loud crack. His head jerks back as something warm splatters his face. He’s dropped on the ground. There’s a weird taste in his mouth. He sucks air into his lungs and, when he lets it out, it’s with a scream that won’t stop._  
[Lost In The Light (6:00) – Dikta](http://www.sendspace.com/file/80ndat) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid1)]

2\. A life in headlines  
_Jensen knows he was kidnapped by a bad man and then rescued by the police. That much he’s been able to figure out from the memory flashes he has from that day and what little his parents will talk about in his presence. The bad man had been shot and, even if Jensen can’t remember it happening or find any scar on his body to prove it, he must have been shot as well, because he was stuck in the hospital for so long and everyone treated him like he had cancer or something._  
No one ever talks to him about it though and the few times he’s tried asking by pointing a finger gun towards himself his mother freaks out and he has to spend at least two hours in an emergency meeting with his therapist. By now he’s stopped asking but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know.  
[Blues From a Gun 3:24) - Sugar Ray](http://www.sendspace.com/file/g7blu8) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid2)]

3\. Fury  
_“Alright, honey,” their mother says. Her voice is flat. It’s always flat. Or broken. Or, sometimes, drunk. Jensen hates her too. He hates them all. Except maybe Mac. She’s too much of a baby._  
Josh gets up, puts his plate in the sink. He’s limping but no one notices except Jensen. Everyone’s too busy pretending everything is okay to ever notice anything. Jensen notices everything. Like the way Josh stops in the doorway and looks back at him, his eyes filling up with tears before he runs up the stairs.  
‘Crybaby,’ Jensen repeats but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as before. He stabs angrily at his beans. The knot in his stomach is so tight it hurts.  
[Shoreline (5:09) – Anna Ternheim](http://www.sendspace.com/file/fqnznr) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid3)]

4\. Leaving home  
_They gaze at each other in tense silence and then Jensen turns around and walks out of the house, across the lawn and climbs into Chris’s truck. After a brief hesitation Chris starts the engine and they drive off._  
[Bring Down Like I (3:54) – Anna Ternheim](http://www.sendspace.com/file/g90jlb) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid4)]

5\. Refugee  
_The duffel bag feels heavy as he hoists it up on his shoulder. Or maybe he should say light, considering it holds everything he owns now. He steps off the bus, knees aching after the long ride, and looks around, frowning a little before making a turn left._  
[Never Look Back (04:04) - Zach Berkman](http://www.sendspace.com/file/2f35dm) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid5)]

6\. Meeting Jared  
_There’s a strange feeling in his stomach. A little like excitement, he thinks, although that’s not really an emotion he’s sure how to identify._  
[Someone Else's Life (3:33) – Joshua Radin](http://www.sendspace.com/file/rcc4gc) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid6)]

7\. The curse of an overactive imagination  
_Jensen shakes his head. “Imagine. I remember...” He takes the eraser and rubs it over the drawing until there’s nothing left but grey shades and smudges, then looks up at Jared, eyes solemn. Jared swallows and nods. He can’t imagine what that’s like, knowing something awful happened to you but having no memory of it._  
“But I, I think...” Jensen adds suddenly and he turns the sheet over and starts drawing on the other side.  
[Ten Years Later (3:47) – Collective Soul](http://www.sendspace.com/file/nm9pxt) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid7)]

8\. Dreamworld  
_Being with Jared is like walking in a world where Jensen’s own problems don’t matter. They’re still there, tripping him in every other step and bricking up his words within his head, but when he looks into Jared’s eyes and listens to him talk and laugh, Jensen forgets for a moment that he will never, ever be like that._  
[You and I (3:19) – Garou](http://www.sendspace.com/file/n391sn) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid8)]

9\. The first fight  
_Jensen shakes his head. No. It’s too late. Jared is gone. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. Jensen’s shoulders start to shake. His head hurts, and his throat hurts, and his eyes prickle all hot and itchy. Fuck. Crying really sucks._  
[The Boy's Gone (4:15) - Jason Mraz](http://www.sendspace.com/file/jym98x) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid9)]

10\. Popping a cherry  
_As Jensen picks up the pace Jared’s mind goes slowly but surely insane. He thinks that has to be it, because there’s no way it can really feel this good. C’mon, it’s a dick in his ass. A big thick cock pushing into his very tight ass. How on earth can that feel this amazing?_  
[Feels So Good (3:03) - Hera](http://www.sendspace.com/file/b035w7) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid10)]

11\. Suicidal  
_The warm water beats upon his back and his lowered head. Rivers run down his cheeks and jump off his chin like a waterfall. He breathes in. Breathes out. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, blood rushing, whoosh, whoosh. He imagines it slowing down, until there’s just one slow beat after another. Boom, boom. Boom. Boom. Boom... And then finally, blessed silence._  
Jensen nods to himself, his body relaxing as a sense of serenity washes over him. If that’s what it comes down to, it’s all right, he’s ready. He accepted his fate a long time ago, it’s only been a matter of when, and, frankly, he expected it to be sooner. He’s been screaming inside his head for twelve years. It will be nice to finally be quiet.  
[To Be Gone (2:47) – Anna Ternheim](http://www.sendspace.com/file/hd9j7f) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid11)]

12\. Options: limited  
_He can’t do this anymore. He can’t live like this. He can’t._  
It’s time he took the reins back. His life. It’s his life. And it’s up to him what happens next. His choice.  
[The Fight Song (4:31) - Ane Brun](http://www.sendspace.com/file/llrk0f) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid12)]

13\. Jared dealing  
_He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how a child can be hurt, and abused and terrorized like that, can have its whole childhood ripped apart by monsters, and not spend the rest of its life screaming its head off in a padded cell. He thinks if someone had done something like that to him that’s where he’d have ended up._  
[War Hero (3:31) – Biggi Hilmars](http://www.sendspace.com/file/4d845r) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid13)]

14\. A decision  
_“We’ll find someone. If this is what you want to do then we’ll find someone.” Jared hesitates, searching Jensen’s face for hints of what he’s thinking. Jensen looks at him with weary eyes. There’s a lump in Jared’s throat, and a feeling of hope he doesn’t dare give in to, not without confirmation. “Does that mean...? Are you planning on sticking around?”_  
Jensen closes his eyes and lays his head on Jared’s shoulder. He nods.  
[The Fear You Won’t Fall (3:05) – Joshua Radin](http://www.sendspace.com/file/hefude) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid14)]

15\. Parasite  
_‘I want this!’ he’d tell the damn kid if he just knew how to reach him. ‘I want this, you fucking moron. Stay out of my head. I’m not you. I’m not you anymore, don’t you get that? Don’t you fucking get that?’_  
[David (5:01) – Dikta](http://www.sendspace.com/file/hf4baq) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid15)]

16\. Finding out  
_The difference between suspecting and knowing is like the difference between sand and quicksand. One tickles your feet, gets into every crack and fold, gnashes between your teeth, irritating and intruding. The other pulls you down and suffocates you._  
Jensen is suffocating.  
He stands in the shower, warm water beating upon his chilled skin, until his knees suddenly buckle, and he’s gliding down the wall like a glob of spit, hitting the bottom hard.  
[The Past Is Not For Real (2:48) – Britta Persson](http://www.sendspace.com/file/8hu8qr) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid16)]

17\. Hope  
_“That’s me? I’m a butterfly?” Jensen’s smile grows even wider, and Jared can’t help grinning with him, even if he feels a little puzzled. Butterfly? Really? “Huh. That’s… gay.”_  
Jensen laughs again, pushing Jared lightly with the palm of his hand, like he can’t be assed to smack him properly.  
“I’m kidding!” Jared leans forward to catch Jensen’s lips in a kiss. “I like it.” That’s an understatement. Jensen’s art can be hard to figure out sometimes, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what he’s trying to say with this one. And being a part of that revelation, however small and flimsy, touches Jared more than he can say.  
[Terrified (4:45) – Anna Ternheim](http://www.sendspace.com/file/d13vct) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid17)]

18\. Reaching out  
_“Hello?”_  
Jared closes his eyes. “Mom, it’s me. Please don’t hang up! I just... I just want to talk to you.” He can hear her hitching her breath, and that’s all it takes for him to start crying. “I miss you. I miss all of you. I just...”  
The line goes dead.  
[Save No Goodbyes (2:08) - Anna Ternheim](http://www.sendspace.com/file/17xz1t) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid18)]

19\. Getting there  
_He’d been terrified the whole time – well, most of it, towards the end he’d been too damn amazed to care about anything except Jared and his amazing fingers – but not of what Jared was doing, that had been fine. All his fears had been about the possible return of the kid, and of what that might do to Jared. In fact, he thinks, if they’d gone all the way, he would have been okay. Only reason he didn’t risk it was that if it had gone wrong, it would have ruined a so far perfect moment. There would be time for “real sex” later. Hopefully not much later though._  
[In Spite of Me (4:05) - Dikta](http://www.sendspace.com/file/h9xmt1) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid19)]

20\. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives  
_“Right,” Jared says and takes a deep breath. “Ready?”_  
Jensen glances into the hall mirror, straightens the collar of his jacket and brushes a stray hair off his shoulder. Then he reaches for Jared’s hand. Their fingers slide together, palms clasp.  
“Yes,” he says and smiles. “Let’s go.”  
[More Than This (4:06) – Fire Flies](http://www.sendspace.com/file/r06l26) | [[Lyrics](http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/1156019.html#cutid20)]

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Gunpoint by Felisblanco Art masterpost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/867899) by [felisblanco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco), [winchestergirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestergirl/pseuds/winchestergirl)




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